008. Good Grief

In a few days, it will mark 1 year since my grandmother passed away. The picture I have inserted in this post is actually the picture I posted the day I found out she passed. This quote speaks volumes to me as I feel it to be so true; I’ve never really had enough time. Related imageIn regards to my maternal grandmother, there just wasn’t enough time to mend (or build, really.) a relationship that should have been.

I think this stemmed from the relationship my grandmother had with my mother. According to my mother, they had never gotten along, even when my mother was just a small child. My mother had always called my grandmother by her first name; I don’t think I ever heard her say the words “Mom” to her.

Although they had a less then favorable relationship, they did how ever find a way to get along. Whether that was purely for show for the kids is above my head, but it kept things normal for us kids. I will always be grateful for that.

The moments that have really tugged on my heart strings were moments leading up to her death. Dating back to when I was a child, about 13 years old, my parents (whom were already separated for 9 years by this point) had decided I was old enough to choose which house I wanted to live at. To make a very long and sad story short, I chose to live with my father due to the (seemingly) apparent fact that my mother and I just couldn’t get along. After a while of not seeing her, I had gone for a visit and she had expressed to me how much of a failure she felt. At this moment in time, she didn’t go much into detail about her feelings on this matter. I am assuming that being because I was a child and even though I protested daily that I knew everything and could understand everything, I did and could not. As I got older and these fights and confessions started to get more detailed, I quickly found out that the relationship I now had with my mom was quickly escalating (or decreasing, however you want to look at it) to mirror what was going on between my mother and my grandmother.

When I finally came to this realization, it destroyed me. The turning point was when I really got to see her pain. Circa 2011, when I went through a terrible tragedy, and then continued pain into 2012 when I lost my best friend to a car accident and my uncle to stage 4 cancer, my world was quickly falling apart. Aside from the pain from these events, I had the pain of seeing the pain in my mothers eyes every time I sought help in dealing with my problems (she works in the mental health field).

At first glance, I believed my mom to be sad about my grandmothers departure from this earth. In hindsight, although I knew that contributed to her sorrow, I knew other factors where at play. I think she felt similar as I did; that they never took the time to mend what was broken between them.

I feel pain for my mother, for the loss of her mother. I feel pain for her regrets and her endless supply of “what if’s”. I vow to never let us get to that point. I don’t want to find myself in her shoes, standing at the doors of her funeral and turning in the other direction and walking away.

Mend relationships that matter most.



008. Good Grief

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