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?