I started blogging, and there is this challenge to get into the habit of writing regularly. Task six is writing a post for my dream reader. I considered some ‘to my lost love’ bullshit or a ‘why I adore Ellen‘ draft. But, you know what, the person I’d really love to speak to one last time is you. I miss you so much. And I’m angry that you left. You did not die in an unforeseen accident or after suffering from severe health issues; you had given up on living.
Of course you had given up a long time ago. What I remember best is you sitting on your kitchen chair, preparing some food, and waiting to join Grandpa on the other side. What I learned from that was never to let someone so close that his death would rip my heart out of my body and leave me waiting for the end. Oddly, I got my heart ripped occasionally, nevertheless. A wall does not protect the heart, thank God!
But I also remember the warmth of your hugs and how close I felt to you, the only person who seemed to understand my inner struggles behind the outer ones. When I got pregnant unmarried, I know this was totally against everything you wanted for me, and against everything you considered right. But you never questioned my decision and stood firmly behind me. You were my hiding place. And now you’re gone.
Since you passed away, I completed my MBA and started teaching at university before setting up my consultancy. Can you imagine! I know where we come from, and how hard the family worked their way up the ladder. I eventually feel the pride I refused to accept when I was a kid and everyone was out of their minds because I would be the first family member on higher schooling. As a girl! I detested the fuss you made of it. But looking back to my roots, I get it.
The kid is now a teenage nerd, beautiful and bright, and I am curious to see where he will lead the family history. He challenges me on learning coding (I want someone to talk about it!), but I can’t be bothered. I still prefer reading a book, going to the theatre, some sports, and oh, I took up sewing! That is really cool and it makes me think of you every now and then and of your stories on sewing dresses from bedclothes because there was nothing available right after the war. Looking around in this crazy world I wonder whether I might need this skill one day.
Mom is fine. She clings to what you told her: Don’t be sad; I had a good life.
This is exactly why we miss you, Grandma. Take care.