I really love this time of year. The day after Thanksgiving is when I really start getting into the Christmas spirit. I have the Christmas music going, I am buying Christmas gifts. I love the Christmas lights, I love the sounds of the bell ringers outside the stores. It all signifies the Christmas season. It makes me happy, so happy in fact that I just want to run down the street yelling Merry Christmas at everyone. Christmas makes me want to burst with excitement.
Obviously, it's my favorite holiday. I love Christmas and it just makes me feel warm and comfortable. I was talking to my niece today, and we both agreed that although this is a great time of year, we miss grandma more on the holidays. Christmas was the holiday where my grandma went all out. And to be honest, it drove me crazy. I hated how much she decorated for Christmas. She really went overboard. From her snow flocked tree, her numerous ornaments, her Christmas dolls that went above the mantle, the putting up the lights in the coldest of weather, the Christmas presents. She rocked the good ol' Christmas sweaters/sweatshirts and occasionally would even rock a Christmas turtleneck under those shirts. She wore Christmas pins and let's not forget Christmas earrings/necklaces. She would manage to wrap my presents right in front of me and I would be so involved in the present she had instructed me to wrap, that I never saw what she had wrapped for me. She would hand me the present and tell me to put it under the tree. I would always get mad that the present was for me and I didn't see her wrap it. No matter how old we got, Santa still brought us presents. She baked goodies for all kinds of people and always bought a huge box of chocolates for our bank. It's all stuff I despised growing up, because I was the one who had to help.
But now, all things Christmas remind me of my grandma. It makes me miss her so much. Before she passed, she had this reindeer that when you pressed his hand, he sang "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer". She loved that stupid thing and that was her favorite song. I, however, hated that reindeer! It drove me crazy. Nine years after she's passed, I still have that reindeer and it still works. It has become my favorite Christmas item that I have. I take it out every year and just sit down and play the song a few times. It bobs it's head while singing and I smile to myself because it reminds me of how much my grandmother loved it. I can still see her smile and hear her laugh as she plays it.
Holidays are not easy on me due to her passing. Since she's died, I've had numerous Christmases. But they've never been the same that they were before she died. I feel so out of sorts this time of year, no matter how much I celebrate, it's not the same as when Gram was alive. I have friends and family, but I feel so alone this time of year. When my grandma was alive, she conquered the world (or at least the state of Indiana). She was everything to me and she was the glue that held our family together. Nobody can do Christmas like Grandma did, nobody.
I want things to be like they used to be, but I know that's not possible. She's gone, our family has changed so much. We've all started new celebrations, new traditions. And if we were to all get together right now, I can guarantee chaos will soon follow. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. We all fell apart when she died and we haven't been able to pull it back together.
I keep my grandma's spirit alive at Christmas as much as I can, all I really have to hold onto is that reindeer and lots of great memories.
Showing posts with label grandmother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandmother. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
August 5th
I went to bed about 11:15 last night and fell into a deep sleep. But, I woke up at 12:35 a.m., August 5th. It happens every year at the same time, and it's been happening for the past 9 years.
On August 5th at 12:35 a.m. 2000, my grandmother took her last breath and passed from this earth. Last night, like every other year, I just laid there wondering why I always woke up at her time of death. Maybe it is because I was there with her when she died. I can't believe it's been 9 years already. I can still smell her perfume sometimes and it still hurts in the very depths of my soul.
Grief is not something that someone goes through quickly. Last year, the 8th year of her being gone, was the first year I wasn't a crying mess. I realized that crying wasn't going to do me any good and it wasn't going to bring her back. I don't just think about her on August 5th or on her birthday, I think about her every day. But still, when this date rolls around, I feel the pain of her loss. I guess there are different levels of grief, depending on the relationship. Yes, she was my grandma, but she was ultimately my mother, the one who raised me since I was very little. The only mother I ever knew.
She would be so proud to know the woman I've turned into, I am who she molded me to be. She tried very hard to turn me into a respectable person. Along the way, I gave her my own grief and rebelled as much as I could. I was disrespectful and would cuss at her. My version of rebelling was nothing too bad, because she kept just enough reign on me to yank me back if I started getting too out of control. Growing up with her was something I hated. But looking back at how she reared me, she did the best job and I am who I am because of her. But no matter what, she always provided for me. In the end, I was the one taking care and providing for her. It's funny how the table got turned and I went from daughter to parent immediately. I do so many things that remind me of my grandma. When she first died and I would do these things, it would make me mad or upset. Like twiddling my thumbs. My grandma did this all the time and it honestly drove me crazy. The first year after she died, I was sitting in church zoning out. The tears began to pour from my eyes as I looked down from my own hands realizing that I was now twiddling my thumbs as well. I have recently been missing her hands. I used to love her hands and I can still feel them.
I wish she was alive to see how I found God and how much I have changed just by surrendering my life to Christ. She would be so proud that I am who she wanted me to be and I follow Christ. The stupid decisions I've made with some men in my life wouldn't of been made, she wouldn't of allowed it. Our family, though not perfect, have kinda all done our own thing now that the head of our family is gone. If she was still alive, the family would be so different. We would still be a family. My family dynamic is hard to explain and very few people actually understand everything. But if she was here, we would of all made an effort to still be united.
Oh she would of doted over all the children being born, especially the great-grandchildren that has been born since she passed. She would of spoiled every single one of them unconditionally and made them feel love that only a great-grandmother could show. She would of cried at Rosie's wedding when she saw how beautiful Rosie looked in her gown. The family situation that happened with my two nieces and nephew would of never happened. She would of raised them herself. She would of helped Charlie when he was diagnosed as being Schizophrenic. That probably would of never happened if she was alive. Because she would of took him in, instead of him being pushed to various family members. I often ponder how life would be if she was still here.
I know it's best that she's gone, she suffered so horribly from the stroke. I was relieved when she took her last breath, because she had suffered so long and I couldn't take her hurting any more. But I still miss her. I still miss her hands stroking my hair when I didn't feel well. I miss her humming in my ear. I miss her sticking her tongue out at me. I miss her eccentric sense of style with her crazy Christmas sweaters and gold tennis shoes. I miss her telling me not so clean jokes and telling me to tell my friends. I miss her cooking and baking. I miss her love she gave to everyone, not just me.
Nine years later, I still miss her immensely.
On August 5th at 12:35 a.m. 2000, my grandmother took her last breath and passed from this earth. Last night, like every other year, I just laid there wondering why I always woke up at her time of death. Maybe it is because I was there with her when she died. I can't believe it's been 9 years already. I can still smell her perfume sometimes and it still hurts in the very depths of my soul.
Grief is not something that someone goes through quickly. Last year, the 8th year of her being gone, was the first year I wasn't a crying mess. I realized that crying wasn't going to do me any good and it wasn't going to bring her back. I don't just think about her on August 5th or on her birthday, I think about her every day. But still, when this date rolls around, I feel the pain of her loss. I guess there are different levels of grief, depending on the relationship. Yes, she was my grandma, but she was ultimately my mother, the one who raised me since I was very little. The only mother I ever knew.
She would be so proud to know the woman I've turned into, I am who she molded me to be. She tried very hard to turn me into a respectable person. Along the way, I gave her my own grief and rebelled as much as I could. I was disrespectful and would cuss at her. My version of rebelling was nothing too bad, because she kept just enough reign on me to yank me back if I started getting too out of control. Growing up with her was something I hated. But looking back at how she reared me, she did the best job and I am who I am because of her. But no matter what, she always provided for me. In the end, I was the one taking care and providing for her. It's funny how the table got turned and I went from daughter to parent immediately. I do so many things that remind me of my grandma. When she first died and I would do these things, it would make me mad or upset. Like twiddling my thumbs. My grandma did this all the time and it honestly drove me crazy. The first year after she died, I was sitting in church zoning out. The tears began to pour from my eyes as I looked down from my own hands realizing that I was now twiddling my thumbs as well. I have recently been missing her hands. I used to love her hands and I can still feel them.
I wish she was alive to see how I found God and how much I have changed just by surrendering my life to Christ. She would be so proud that I am who she wanted me to be and I follow Christ. The stupid decisions I've made with some men in my life wouldn't of been made, she wouldn't of allowed it. Our family, though not perfect, have kinda all done our own thing now that the head of our family is gone. If she was still alive, the family would be so different. We would still be a family. My family dynamic is hard to explain and very few people actually understand everything. But if she was here, we would of all made an effort to still be united.
Oh she would of doted over all the children being born, especially the great-grandchildren that has been born since she passed. She would of spoiled every single one of them unconditionally and made them feel love that only a great-grandmother could show. She would of cried at Rosie's wedding when she saw how beautiful Rosie looked in her gown. The family situation that happened with my two nieces and nephew would of never happened. She would of raised them herself. She would of helped Charlie when he was diagnosed as being Schizophrenic. That probably would of never happened if she was alive. Because she would of took him in, instead of him being pushed to various family members. I often ponder how life would be if she was still here.
I know it's best that she's gone, she suffered so horribly from the stroke. I was relieved when she took her last breath, because she had suffered so long and I couldn't take her hurting any more. But I still miss her. I still miss her hands stroking my hair when I didn't feel well. I miss her humming in my ear. I miss her sticking her tongue out at me. I miss her eccentric sense of style with her crazy Christmas sweaters and gold tennis shoes. I miss her telling me not so clean jokes and telling me to tell my friends. I miss her cooking and baking. I miss her love she gave to everyone, not just me.
Nine years later, I still miss her immensely.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Dates that stick in your head
I'm one of those type of people who pretty much remembers dates. I keep up on birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I do admit to putting everything in my Yahoo calendar, but when I get the reminder about a birthday, etc., coming up, I say to myself, "Yep, I already knew that." Because the date is literally engrained into my head. I'm very odd like that. How about this date, 11/8/2006, that was the day I came down with Dengue Fever. Yes, seriously...I am a maniac when it comes to dates.
Then there are other dates you remember:
The date someone you knew passed away.
The date your animal passed away.
The date that the planes hit the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.
The date Kennedy was shot.
The date you got something you really wanted, etc.
The date Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous "I Have a Dream Speech".
The list could go on and on. In 12 days, it will be September 15th. I was going to make this a future post, but decided to go ahead and post it now. As of right now, I have no clue what this day is going to bring. It could be a monumental day in history, it could be another day. But looking at my life, this is what September 15th means to me as of 9/3/2008. In 12 days, many people will be celebrating a birthday. September 15th is Pam's birthday and Pam would be my mother. Even though I have no intention of celebrating this day, nor do I plan on calling her and wishing her Happy Birthday, it's a date that I can't seem to get out of my head. I honestly want to forget it...
For those of you who don't know...let's just say my relationship with her is odd, and that is putting it very lightly. I don't intend on going into extreme details about my relationship or lack there of on this blog. If you know me...you're a close friend of mine, then you've heard this story before. You know I have serious "mom" issues.
It's been over a year since I've spoken to her. That's actually a short time seeing at I went a good portion of my life (15+ years) without ever hearing from her. My life is so much less complicated without her in it. I don't do complication very well. I've come to realize that I don't have a mother and the only mother I have was my grandmother who is now deceased. Sure, Pam gave birth to me, but does that earn her the title of mother? I don't think so, every time I called her mom in recent years...I cringed. And I only said "mom" because I knew it was something she wanted to hear. She wasn't there when I had my first kiss, she wasn't there to kiss my sores when I fell off my bike, she wasn't there when I went to my first formal, she wasn't there to discipline me when I got out of line, she simply was not there. She literally had absolutely no hand in raising me at all.
Most of my friends are close to their mothers, very close. All the more reason for me to have issues. I find myself getting so jealous of their relationships with their moms because I never had that mother bond you experience. In cases of my friends moms usually one of these things will happen: they immediately "adopt" me as one of their family members or I "cling" to them in hopes that they will be my stand-in mother. Unfortunately because of so many mother figures in my past not being there for me when I needed a mom figure, no matter who takes me into their family, I will push them away, little by little.
I am very fearful of my heart being hurt and the love I never felt from my mother was one of my biggest hurts my heart has felt. I'm afraid for someone to love me, but more afraid that they will make me feel the same way that Pam has made me feel. Which by the way, is a way I NEVER want to feel again in my life. Have you ever experienced the feeling of your own parents not loving you? It hurts beyond comprehension and unless you have gone through this, you really can't begin to understand how deep the pain hurts. I'm 31 years old and that woman and the way she made me feel unloved has affected my entire life.
Jason's mom, Kristine's mom, Becky's mom have all offered to love me and try to be my surrogate mother as much as I will let them . And I can sit here and say that NONE of them have upset me and they will all be there in a heartbeat if I needed them too. But, there's that little part of me is very afraid something will happen and another piece of my heart will be broken. I don't require a mom figure 24/7, I'm an independent woman, and I've been on my own for a long time. But sometimes....I just need a mom, an older woman to love on me, to give me advice. I need that person to make me feel... not so alone. Because many times, I feel so, so alone in my world. Usually, I feel as though I'm a bother by telling them I need them. And so...most of the time, in fact almost all the time, I don't say anything to them. I know that's not right, they are there willing to help, but it's me pushing them away, crawling into my little "I can deal with this" hole.
I know it's not a way to deal with things, but it's the way I am, the way I am wired. I guess because of my past history and my serious trust issues, the only way I know to deal with things is to go into my room, shut the door, pray that God would shed some light on the situation, and cry myself to sleep. It seems to work for the most part. I don't tell these women, who are ready to help, that I need them..somehow I move past whatever issue I'm dealing with. I just can't seem to 100% open up to them.
But I can't help to feel a void...a mom void.
Then there are other dates you remember:
The date someone you knew passed away.
The date your animal passed away.
The date that the planes hit the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.
The date Kennedy was shot.
The date you got something you really wanted, etc.
The date Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous "I Have a Dream Speech".
The list could go on and on. In 12 days, it will be September 15th. I was going to make this a future post, but decided to go ahead and post it now. As of right now, I have no clue what this day is going to bring. It could be a monumental day in history, it could be another day. But looking at my life, this is what September 15th means to me as of 9/3/2008. In 12 days, many people will be celebrating a birthday. September 15th is Pam's birthday and Pam would be my mother. Even though I have no intention of celebrating this day, nor do I plan on calling her and wishing her Happy Birthday, it's a date that I can't seem to get out of my head. I honestly want to forget it...
For those of you who don't know...let's just say my relationship with her is odd, and that is putting it very lightly. I don't intend on going into extreme details about my relationship or lack there of on this blog. If you know me...you're a close friend of mine, then you've heard this story before. You know I have serious "mom" issues.
It's been over a year since I've spoken to her. That's actually a short time seeing at I went a good portion of my life (15+ years) without ever hearing from her. My life is so much less complicated without her in it. I don't do complication very well. I've come to realize that I don't have a mother and the only mother I have was my grandmother who is now deceased. Sure, Pam gave birth to me, but does that earn her the title of mother? I don't think so, every time I called her mom in recent years...I cringed. And I only said "mom" because I knew it was something she wanted to hear. She wasn't there when I had my first kiss, she wasn't there to kiss my sores when I fell off my bike, she wasn't there when I went to my first formal, she wasn't there to discipline me when I got out of line, she simply was not there. She literally had absolutely no hand in raising me at all.
Most of my friends are close to their mothers, very close. All the more reason for me to have issues. I find myself getting so jealous of their relationships with their moms because I never had that mother bond you experience. In cases of my friends moms usually one of these things will happen: they immediately "adopt" me as one of their family members or I "cling" to them in hopes that they will be my stand-in mother. Unfortunately because of so many mother figures in my past not being there for me when I needed a mom figure, no matter who takes me into their family, I will push them away, little by little.
I am very fearful of my heart being hurt and the love I never felt from my mother was one of my biggest hurts my heart has felt. I'm afraid for someone to love me, but more afraid that they will make me feel the same way that Pam has made me feel. Which by the way, is a way I NEVER want to feel again in my life. Have you ever experienced the feeling of your own parents not loving you? It hurts beyond comprehension and unless you have gone through this, you really can't begin to understand how deep the pain hurts. I'm 31 years old and that woman and the way she made me feel unloved has affected my entire life.
Jason's mom, Kristine's mom, Becky's mom have all offered to love me and try to be my surrogate mother as much as I will let them . And I can sit here and say that NONE of them have upset me and they will all be there in a heartbeat if I needed them too. But, there's that little part of me is very afraid something will happen and another piece of my heart will be broken. I don't require a mom figure 24/7, I'm an independent woman, and I've been on my own for a long time. But sometimes....I just need a mom, an older woman to love on me, to give me advice. I need that person to make me feel... not so alone. Because many times, I feel so, so alone in my world. Usually, I feel as though I'm a bother by telling them I need them. And so...most of the time, in fact almost all the time, I don't say anything to them. I know that's not right, they are there willing to help, but it's me pushing them away, crawling into my little "I can deal with this" hole.
I know it's not a way to deal with things, but it's the way I am, the way I am wired. I guess because of my past history and my serious trust issues, the only way I know to deal with things is to go into my room, shut the door, pray that God would shed some light on the situation, and cry myself to sleep. It seems to work for the most part. I don't tell these women, who are ready to help, that I need them..somehow I move past whatever issue I'm dealing with. I just can't seem to 100% open up to them.
But I can't help to feel a void...a mom void.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
August 5th, 2000
Today marks 8 years of my grandmother's passing. She raised me, so it's almost like looking at it as my mother's passing. Usually every time this year, I get really down and depressed. I just miss her. But today, I'm doing surprisingly well. I am not upset or depressed in any type of way. I have a peace about me, that I don't know if I have experienced in a long time. I'm not saying that I've forgotten about her, or no longer miss her, I'm saying it's getting a little easier. I went to bed about 11:30, I feel asleep and woke up at exactly 12:35 a.m. That is when my grandmother took her last breath, I was there with her as death came over her. It is a moment that will haunt me the rest of my life. I prayed to God in the wee hours to help me get through today, help me fall back asleep, and I did. I woke up thinking about her, but like I said...there is some sort of peace there. I can't believe it's almost been 10 years. This past weekend, I went and saw my niece to visit with her and her family. Paige provided a constant reminder of my grandmother. My grandmother would of just been all over spoiling that baby, she would of loved it, she boasted about her great-grandchildren like there was no tomorrow. Martha remembered, which isn't surprising. She was pregnant with her son 2000. As God took away one life (my grandmother's), he brought in another one shortly after (Codey). Here is the great-granddaughter that my grandmother would of loved spoiling:
I recently registered this blog on www.blogged.com. It's a website, where people can register their blogs and people from all over the place can read your blog, and leave remarks about what they think about your blog. And although, I haven't gotten any comments, my page is getting some serious hits. Since doing that, I'm averaging about 250 footprints a day. Which, compared to my average being about 90 before I registered, that's pretty good. I used to have a goal of getting featured here on Xanga, but after thinking about it, I'm not really sure that is what I want. I don't know if I want the "fame" that comes with being featured on Xanga. I am still trying to achieve my goal of getting 100,000 credits for lifetime premium. *Sigh* It's going to take me FOREVER, after hoarding credits since the beginning of the year, I only have 12,000. Phooey. I'll never get there.
School is starting in a few weeks, I'm actually excited for it to start up again. I want to get back into the routine of school, doing homework. I have to get my books next week, hopefully I can afford them. I'm taking it easy this semester (Not really, it's a hard class) by only taking one class. After this class, I have four more classes to take before applying for the nursing program. Next semester, I'm going to step it out and push out some more classes. I need to look into possibly transferring to another school to get into the nursing program quicker. I'm in the process of doing that right now. I also need to kick the Spanish classes in gear as well. I am losing motivation, but I have to keep going, I have a goal, I need to obtain it.
I gotta go.
Have a fantastic day!
B-Squared
Quote of the day:"You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present." ~Jan Glidewell
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