warning, this is a ramble-y, grief-y mess--
It hit me recently that since my grandma passed a month ago (as of tomorrow--how has it been a month already??), she won't be at my wedding, assuming I have one someday. I'm nowhere near getting married and I feel a bit silly for feeling so sad about that when I know marriage isn't guaranteed, but I wish she could be there if it happens for me. She loved to sew and I do too. I wish I could have talked to her about wedding dress options, because I know she would have been excited about finding a fun dress. She won't get to see me graduate college/grad school either, and she won't meet any of my kids if I ever have any.
There are all these things I didn't even realize I wanted to do with her, and now I can't. Whenever she'd complain about her hair getting white I'd half-jokingly suggest that we dye her hair some crazy color--I dye my hair frequently and she loved purple, so I offered to let her borrow some of leftover purple dye--and she'd actually seemed interested, but decided not to because it would be messy. She'd offered to teach me how to crochet and she taught me a little, but we never got farther than a basic chain stitch; I should've asked to practice more. I wish she could see me get more tattoos. I wish I could talk to her five years from now about whatever I decide to do with my life. I wish she'd been healthy enough for us to have baked something last year. Last Christmas she gave me a lipstick that I still wear every day. Today my parents gave me some of her candlesticks they found in her apartment when they were cleaning it out. I miss her.
It hit me recently that since my grandma passed a month ago (as of tomorrow--how has it been a month already??), she won't be at my wedding, assuming I have one someday. I'm nowhere near getting married and I feel a bit silly for feeling so sad about that when I know marriage isn't guaranteed, but I wish she could be there if it happens for me. She loved to sew and I do too. I wish I could have talked to her about wedding dress options, because I know she would have been excited about finding a fun dress. She won't get to see me graduate college/grad school either, and she won't meet any of my kids if I ever have any.
There are all these things I didn't even realize I wanted to do with her, and now I can't. Whenever she'd complain about her hair getting white I'd half-jokingly suggest that we dye her hair some crazy color--I dye my hair frequently and she loved purple, so I offered to let her borrow some of leftover purple dye--and she'd actually seemed interested, but decided not to because it would be messy. She'd offered to teach me how to crochet and she taught me a little, but we never got farther than a basic chain stitch; I should've asked to practice more. I wish she could see me get more tattoos. I wish I could talk to her five years from now about whatever I decide to do with my life. I wish she'd been healthy enough for us to have baked something last year. Last Christmas she gave me a lipstick that I still wear every day. Today my parents gave me some of her candlesticks they found in her apartment when they were cleaning it out. I miss her.
Thank you for this <3 What you said kind of reminds me of this exchange from the show Fleabag that I've had stuck in my head recently that's felt comforting--this moment where Fleabag is talking to her friend after her mom passes. She goes,"I don’t know what to do with it, with all the love I have for her. I don’t know where to put it now.” and her friend just responds, "I'll take it. (...) It's gotta go somewhere." I really like the thought of that--that the love still exists even if she's gone, and I think it'll be there in those big life moments even if she isn't.
sorry for your loss.