Friday, May 09, 2008

A Small Dose of Acceptance

For the last seven months I’ve been a hermit, holed up on my own and keeping to myself.

[You know, doing the whole grief thing.]

Sometime in the recent past I noticed streams of stubborn, persistent sunlight sneaking through the slats of my down-turned window blinds.

Curious, I opened the front door with squinted and adjusting eyes to see that my entire yard was full of people.

At first I hurried back inside and shut the door.

Oh, my GOD! Who ARE all those people and what are they doing in my yard?!!

Gradually I went out among them.

They invited us to their houses for dinners and play dates and we invited them back...

They made us laugh.

They have us out and about, walking around our neighborhood.

"Let's go on an adventure!" The Rooster says.

I like thinking of our walks that way.

The other day we were strolling up a quiet, neighborhood street hand in hand letting the perfect evening breeze billow all around us.

I beamed, feeling happy.

I thought about the new people in our lives and the accompanying new social dynamics.

Do they like us as much as we like them? I wondered.

Then I thought of my Granny... how much I miss her... how much I have missed her.

I started to feel guilty for enjoying myself, but then I felt her presence all around me, everywhere.

Her fingertips were the breeze rustling the flowers from their beds.


“I want you to be happy,” she said.

Later, at the farmer’s market, I bought a pint of blackberries.

They were fat and juicy berries -- my favorite.

The Rooster, who loves them too, got nose deep in the box before we finished checking out.

As I watched her devour berry after berry, I thought about picking berries with my Granny and all the times she made blackberry dumplings for me.

Snapping back to the present, I realized that The Rooster intended to eat the entire pint of berries before we even left the store.

I started to say something but then I heard my Granny again.

“Everything is as it should be,” she said.

The sun is shining and everything is as it should be.

48 comments:

Deb said...

Spring has indeed sprung, eh? Literally and metaphorically. I'm glad to hear it.

Becky said...

Beautiful. Blogs like this keep me coming back again and again. Your grief has become less of a big heavy wet blanket and more of a knit shawl to wrap around your shoulders.

Maureen said...

Simply.

Wonderful.

jakelliesmom said...

Beautiful and lovely and everything in between.

If you listen to the voice, the feeling, whatever it is, sometimes you hear exactly what you need.

This felt like a great big hug from your Granny.

Anonymous said...

Blackberries are Grandma Seattle's most favorite thing - but don't make me Blackberry dumplings unless you want to see me cry. (FYI, your post made me cry - I miss Granny's Blackberry dumplings.) Love Mom

Lotta said...

And so it is. Don't forget - working through your child's injury is a huge stressor. It's ok to hole up and recharge from that too!

carrie said...

Grandmothers are always right. Even when they're gone.

I hope you have a lovely Mother's Day, friend!

kurrabikid said...

I love this. How wonderful that you were able to read the signs the way you have. That's a true skill.

Omaha Mama said...

I'm so glad that you listened to your Grandmother. Her wisdom is leading you to a bright new chapter.
Congrats on inching your way - - this beautiful post made me want to cry.

soupisnotafingerfood said...

I miss my grandma every day, nearly 3 years hence. I started writing about her and intend to post some of her memoirs on my own blog. Because she would dig that it's in cyberspace. She learned to use email in her early '80s and send me messages until just before she died, just short of age 90.

I also posted, with photos, her sugar cookie recipe. I called the post "channeling the grandmas" (both of my grandmas made 'em the same way). It's one way I can continue to honor her and keep her memory and traditions alive, even if she's gone.

Amanda said...

This was wonderful, thank goodness for air and light through slats.

Now, mind you after a few hours, everything may not be as it should when toddlers hog the fruit carton...just sayin'...

:)

nutmeg said...

Welcome back.

Not Hannah said...

Lovely.

Not Hannah said...

Lovely.

Jenifer said...

The human capacity to heal and rejuvenate amazes me.

Sandra Miller said...

I've been that hermit-- and know exactly the process you describe so perfectly here.

This was lovely and powerful, Jessica.

mimikatemom said...

Hello stranger friend,

My heart is glad for you.

Sunshine on shoulders.

E

Kevin Charnas said...

And to embrace that as you are is indeed a gift. For then, you're living in the moment, fully aware. And that's all we really have.

Backpacking Dad said...

And there are always more blackberries.

Mrs. Chicken said...

I am so glad to read this, my friend.

BOSSY said...

Yes. It's as it should be. Unless you are Bossy. And then things are a shadow of the way they should be. Just kidding. Sort of.

Rima said...

I'm so glad that you have reached this place.

Rachael said...

Amazing and wonderful. Life can be great, and it's amazing to realize that despite not being here to touch, our loved ones can still be with us.

flutter said...

It is all as it should be, love.

The Sour Kraut said...

I'm glad you're feeling better.

Where are you meeting these new acquaintances?

yummysushipajamas said...

This is such a fantastic post. I love it and I am so happy to hear you're finding some peace.

dawn224 said...

So this terrible empty I feel inside is gonna get better?

I'm glad your sun is shining again. :)

the mama bird diaries said...

That was really beautiful.

urban-urchin said...

Gorgeous. Yes, it's as it should be.

Mel said...

I'm glad you got a dose, small or not, today. And I hope that every day gets better and better, Miss J.

(((you)))

Kelley said...

It takes a while, but that pain turns into a bittersweetness. Kinda like those blackberries.

Smootches babe.

Dorothy said...

This was lovely. What a wonderful surprise to read...

My best,
Dorothy from grammology
remember to call your gram
www.grammology.com

furiousBall said...

happy mother's day!

KathyLikesPink said...

OH, I so feel your pain. I was very close to my grandparents. My Grandmother died 21 days after my Grandfather. They were both 85 years old. That was 15 years ago and not a day goes by that I don't think of them.

I am very lucky that my grandparents were part of my life.

You will share your memories with your children and they will live forever in your heart.

Nancy said...

Oh, I'm so glad, Jess. You deserve a little sunshine in your life after these rough times.

Damselfly said...

I still have that recipe from when you first posted it.

Happy Mother's Day!

Magpie said...

Spring has a way of doing that.

Queen of the Mayhem said...

I am glad you are feeling better! :)


Hope you are having a great MOther's Day!

Cassey said...

Great writing. Very inspiring. Probably grieving is the last thing are loved ones would want us to do.

Circus Kelli said...

The sun is shining and everything is as it should be.

Mhmm. Yes it is. I love it when I realize that. :)

Jennifer said...

I hope you don't mind. I'm going to be channeling your grandma and you with "Everything is as it should be" That's certainly the voice I've been wanting to have in my head.

Thank you. I'm not sure why but this post put a tear in my eye. A happy tear.

Above Average Joe said...

Glad to hear the sun is shining again.

Happy Mother's Day.

All Rileyed Up said...

Beautiful post. My grandmother and I used to go blackberry picking too. Though we made jam instead of dumplings. It's nice to remember the good times, no?

ekbetsy said...

I just love your blog! I love the wit mixed in with the profound. Thank you!

motherbumper said...

This post made me smile so hard for you J - it really did. I'm so glad the sunshine is getting through

Beck said...

This was lovely. I'm glad spring has come.

Ruth Dynamite said...

It's OK to let a little sunshine in - and out! The sunshine that gleams from within you is, in part, a gift from that incredible Granny of yours. Peace, Jess. Wishing you well as always!

Bon said...

i loved this, Jess. it is good to go out in the light again...a little changed, but tempered with the healing, too.

i think your Granny would be pleased.