I’m doing pretty good dealing with the loss of my grandmother. Well, most of the time I am. The other day I was talking to my grandfather and when he started talking about cooking dinner and I realized he was cooking for one, I started crying. Oh, and once I was on the phone with a potential suitor and he asked about my grandmother and I burst into tears. And then a couple of weeks ago Regan was naming everyone in the family like “Aunt Kelwy (Kelly) is at Kelwy’s house and Poppa is at Poppa’s house.” Then my mother made the mistake of asking where GiGi was and she simply said, “Gigi sleeping.” Yeah, I was late for work that day.
Despite those minor outbursts, I really am doing fine. I know she is happy now and that is really all that matters. I also believe that her spirit has been to the house and you really can’t tell me otherwise. I am certain that she was here when my mother was visiting. Things kept happening that ceased once my mom left.
Last week, however, she really did arrive, in this tiny little urn. Each of her children (and me because I’m her favorite) received a tiny urn with her ashes. It stands about three inches high. Everyone got to pick the style they wanted. My grandmother, like I, loved red and oranges. This is totally her style. I keep it in my office next to her picture, but sometimes I take it to the kitchen with me while I am cooking and cleaning. I know she would appreciate the open window and fresh air.
So that’s how I am dealing with my grief. Carrying this tiny urn around the house and talking to my grandmother’s spirit.
How do you deal with grief?
My grandmother died a little over a week ago, and I try to just remind myself that she’s no longer scared (which she said a lot these past few months) and isn’t in pain anymore. Beyond that I struggle. This week is my first real dose back to the real world so the reality that I don’t have to schedule my time around my nights to sleep over at the hospital or going to my aunt’s house to give her breaks from the constant care has been a bit daunting. I never imagined I’d miss holding her hand as much as I do. I think grieving is a process and we can’t be hard on ourselves when we feel like we’re not further along with it as we think we should be.
I didn’t deal very well. I was 26 when my paternal Grandmother died. I was a wreck for weeks. I still believe that she held onto me and her spirit stayed with me until I was ok, it took months. I know it may sound crazy but I knew that I had to get it together because I felt she couldn’t leave me like I was, and as long I as I held her here she could never rest in heaven. I had to be ok, then all of a sudden I was.
that’s a beautiful urn.
Yes, it is.
That is a really nice urn. People deal with grief the best way they can or know how. I think everyone’s journey is different.
I was telling a friend the other day that I could easily be one of those people that suffer tragedy and never speak again. As long as I can write, I could totally stay all Dr. Yang on ‘em. When someone approaches me with the concerned look and the “How are you feeling? How are you doing?” let’s hug…I really want to punch them for reminding me that this has happened. And, I keep forgetting to eat. So, I guess I deal with grief through silence, hunger, and anger at well-meaning individuals.
I’m looney.
I eat; I see a therapist on occasion.
I still get so overwhelmed with emotion. I hate when people say it gets better; not sure when the pain will subside to a point where I feel like I’m really back to my old self.
I cry. Then I shake it off and remember happy things.
Beautiful urn. I think I’d like to have my mommy home with me like that as I’ve never been a huge fan of visiting cemeteries.
I cry a lot, talk, pray and just take grief day by day. Some days it gets a bit easier and then other days you just learn to live with the sadness.
Oh wow, that made me cry. I have been dealing with some grief lately and like you I cry easily when thinking about it. I have heard that it is like a scar and that only time will make it heal. I can already see some healing.
I cry and cry and cry. Once I get to the point where I can’t cry anymore I’m usually ok.
I can remember losing all of my grandparents but losing my uncle hurt me the most.