Don’t be mad if I cry. It just hurts so bad sometimes. Because everyday it’s sinking in. And I have to say goodbye all over again
Summer is coming. Summer reminds me of my Gramma Gladys. Her funeral was the first funeral I remember attending. My very first one I had ever been to was when I was very, very young and I had no idea what was going on.
I was the first one to walk into the room where the service was being held. It was like she was sleeping. But she couldn’t sleep laying down. She had to sit up in a chair because of her bad heart. And her body was so messed up from a car accident in the 70s that almost killed her that she would have a hard time getting back up if she were to lay down.
The day she died was on a day when she was feeling great though. She asked the aid to help her into bed. Then she sent him to go get something off of the little snack cart. Which I thought was strange because she didn’t like nursing home food (I don’t blame her). He came back, and she was dead.
The other day I was pondering what it would have been like if she was still alive. I imagined myself going to her house, helping her with anything, doing my homework, having adult conversations with her. She could have taught me how to can food, and tell me stories about the farm that she grew up on. I could drive her places and we could go out to eat. I could drive her to K-Mart, to go get her hair done. All those things.
She died when I was 13, just two short years before I knew God. I could have shared with her what I had found, but I guess it just wasn’t supposed to happen that way.
I don’t care what others will say but when I was little I thought her house was the greatest. It had all this cool stuff to look at like pictures, jewelry, the litter box.
I really miss her, who wouldn’t? She was a fun woman.
