In Memoriam

Grandma Inez left us early last night. She didn’t have two more weeks. She had two days. She died in her own bed, with all of her children in the room with her.

I missed my sister’s call, but I knew when I read her text saying simply ‘give me a call when you get a chance.’ I called her back and had the short conversation, tears rolling down my face. When I got off the phone, i quietly asked my husband for my medicine, then I took a shower and went to bed.

I only lay there a minute, facing the wall, before he came in and lay down next to me, putting his arm around me, telling me he was sorry about grandma, and that he loves me.

I couldn’t speak. I had so many things to say, and nothing to say. I had a knot in my throat choking off the words before they could do any more than form in my heart, sometimes before they could do that much.

I put his other arm around me and held his hand. We lay like that, not speaking, for a long time. All I could hear was my own breathing inside my head.

And all I felt was selfish.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering why my father had never bothered to call me back. From wondering why my mother hadn’t called to check on me, when my sister told me she’d called her to let her know. From feeling that all the family that was here before me who loved me no matter what was gone.

I miss my grandparents. All of them. Because they never made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Because to them, I was always perfect just the way I was.

It didn’t matter if I didn’t go to school for an extra twelve years. It didn’t matter if I was depressed. It didn’t matter how I looked or felt or acted, they always loved me, they were always proud of me, and they never let me down.

That is who I want to be when I grow up.

I rolled over, and I hugged my husband. I held him tightly, and he held me, until I couldn’t anymore. I felt his back under my hands, and I thought about how much I love him, how much I want things to be okay, how much I want us to be happy.

After another long time, we both rolled over again and snuggled up back to back. He went to sleep, and I dozed some of the night, tossing and turning for most of it, hugging my pillows.

I think to Grandma Inez, love meant pillows. She made me dozens of pillows over my lifetime. Maybe that’s why pillows mean love to me. Pillows mean love and comfort and hugs.

My grandmother always knew I loved her. And she always gave me pillows.


23 Comments on “In Memoriam”

  1. jjiraffe says:

    This made me teary. What a beautiful tribute.

    Abiding with you. (((Hugs)))

  2. I’m sorry for your loss, April.

  3. tigger62077 says:

    Oh honey! I’m so very sorry to read this. I’m VERY glad you had your wonderful husband there with you, to hold you. *many hugs*

  4. Liz says:

    ICLW greetings…my condolence for your loss. the pillows are a wonderful keepsake and a wonderful way to remember her by. Hugs to you!

  5. Ivory says:

    I lost my grandmother a month ago as well, and I can only imagine how hard it is for you. My sympathies go out to you and your family.

  6. Patience says:

    Here from ICLW. I am so very sorry for your loss.

  7. Found your blog thru ICLW… So very sorry to read of your loss. Your grandmother sounds like a very special woman. Thinking of you while you celebrate her memory and grieve her absence.

  8. Oh April, I am so sorry to hear about your Grandma. Please don’t feel selfish. Do what you need to do for yourself right now. Hug those pillows and your Hubby tight. Love you!

  9. Becky says:

    Been thinking of you and hoping that this time after your grandmother’s passing has offered you some peace in your remembering of all the lovely things about her. ((hugs))

  10. Kathy says:

    I am sorry that I missed this at the time of your Grandma Inez’s death. I am here from the future via Time Warp Tuesday and typing through my tears. What a moving post April.

    I love this:

    “I couldn’t speak. I had so many things to say, and nothing to say.”

    I think that really captures what it feels like to lose someone you love and care about so much.

    If I had read this back then I would have shared my favorite quote about losing loved ones, so I will share it now:

    “What we have once enjoyed and loved deeply we can never lose. For all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” ~ Helen Keller

    • April says:

      Kathy, thank you for such a wonderful quote. Since some time has passed, it seems to resonate the truth more deeply than perhaps it would have a few months ago. That must be why you missed reading this then, to share those words now.

  11. Your Grandma Inez sounds like my kids’ Grandma Marshmallow. Soft and supportive.

    I’m glad your husband was there for you. Sending you love and light.

  12. Justine says:

    Your Grandma Inez sounds like a wonderful woman … and definitely, just the kind of parent I hope to be. Supportive, loving, embracing … no matter what. I’m so sorry for your loss, but glad that you have someone there who makes you feel like she did. Sending my thoughts.

  13. […] found the post I wrote when my Aunt Morna died, and when my Grandma Inez […]

  14. […] if I had the opportunity, I would go with my middle name, Inez. I know the origin of that one: my paternal grandmother. Even though I kept my maiden name as my middle–ooh, that is a whole ‘nother […]

  15. […] summer I was nine years old, my grandmother gave me a copy of Oscar Wilde’s Fairy Tales. I dreamed about it last night, about the sound […]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s