The Whole Wide World

My heart has been heavy lately, as the days breeze by and the one-year anniversary of my Nana’s passing approaches. This time last year was such an emotional roller coaster for me; Dad’s liver transplant granting him an extension on life and Nana fading into the end of hers, as Parkinson’s took her away.

I have such complicated mix of emotions around that time. Most often the one that pops up is regret for not being more patient, for not just exuding love and compassion regardless of how difficult it was being a caretaker for each of them, and when I’ve talked myself out of the darkness, gratitude. Thankfulness that I was in a position to be there for both of them even if I wasn’t perfectly there.

In my head (as usual), I thought that by spending the winter down here, I would have the time, space and quiet that is needed to work through those emotions, but the more time that passes the more I realize that you don’t really get to just organize and file that sort of stuff away neatly. It’s a messy thing, that comes and goes as it pleases. I don’t know that it can be worked through, I think perhaps you just have to go through it.

There have been quite a few nights of restless sleep in the past year. Tossing and turning as I replay those six-months in my head. Always just wishing I could go back and do it again, do it with more love and patience, making sure Nana knew how much I loved…how much I’ll always love her. The night before last I couldn’t sleep, I tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning and then it happened again last night.

As I fought my self and my sleep, I finally reached over and turned the light back on and picked up the book I recently started reading. It’s called Wintering and I picked it solely based on the title since that is exactly what I am doing down here, wintering. I said a little prayer as I picked it up. I’m not religious, it wasn’t a prayer in that sense. When I say prayer, I mean that I was speaking to the Universe, putting energy out there. I asked the Universe to give me a sign. I like signs and synchronicity. They are like hugs from stardust. Reassurance from the Universe that I am exactly where I am meant to be. The highest level of comfort. As I opened the book, I asked for a sign from Nana. I just wanted to be reassured that she knows how much I love her. How much I miss her.

As I neared the end of the chapter and my eyes grew heavy with sleep I read in almost disbelief Katherine May’s words about her own grandmother. I felt certain that if anyone could come back on a spectral visit, it would be she. It’s hard to express what bitter disappointment I felt that she didn’t appear at my bedside in the middle of the night, radiating comfort…The chapter was so serendipitous it was almost unbelievable…but then that’s what grief is-a yearning for that one last moment of contact that would settle everything.

Grief. Not unexplainable, abnormal sadness. It’s grief. I’m grieving and it’s okay. I’m okay. All those emotions that sit tangled in my head like a plate of old spaghetti noodles, that’s just grief. And reading that chapter, in that moment, that was a hug from stardust, from the Universe.