Tuesday, May 29, 2012
We just got home from an amazing and relaxing three days in Branson, Missouri. I love that place. It is a place that I remember going to as a child. It became a destination of choice as a married girl, too. We rented a condo this trip, and the kids now share my love of Branson.
So first thing this morning, back in our own kitchen and no school, the kids wanted pancakes for breakfast. As I am gathering the flour, baking soda and so on, I have a wave of panic come over me. I took my little measuring spoons to Branson because I didn’t know what they would have in their kitchen. JW put the dishes away at the condo, and packed up our stuff while I showered and got ready. When I unpacked at home, I didn’t see the spoons. I didn’t even think about it.
I couldn’t stop myself. The tears flowed freely. I know, they are just spoons. They are little metal spoons held together with a little metal ring. They are at least 80 years old. When Grandma died, I took very few of her things from her house. Actually, I only took 2 things. Her recipe box and these measuring spoons. The panic over losing the spoons opened that wave of grief that is always close and ready to release.
It has been 5 years almost (5 years on August 31st), and I can still weep at the drop of a hat. I miss her so bad. Desperately feels like a more accurate description. I have learned in these last years, grief isn’t something you do for a while. At least not the grief over the death of a loved one. The tears may not come as frequently. But they come no less intensely.
I know I have told you before about her. That she raised me a great portion of my life. She potty trained me. Taught me to read and write. Helped me learn to ride my first bike. Played made-up games with me. Taught me to crotchet and quilt. Played one on one basketball with me when I was in 8th grade – I was 13, she was 64. Went to everyone of my basketball games my senior year. Took pictures of me for my junior and senior proms. Took me to visit colleges. And helped me pack and watched me drive away to college my freshman year. Basically, she gave me roots then gave me wings.
As a married mother of 4 young children, I relied on her heavily. I called her almost every day. Just to tell her about my day. And ask her how she did it with 4 young children many years before. When I was unsure about things, I called her. She listened. Then said something deeply profound but insanely simple. I miss that part, every single minute of every single day. So many things I wish I could ask her.
Yes, all this bubbled up when I realized the spoons were gone. It is so silly, I know. Logically, I know that. But my heart is just broken, and I am so angry at how I could have been so careless to not double check.
My sweet husband called the condo owner immediately and left a message. Then let me continue to sob like a baby. I followed up with an email a few minutes ago. What if they are lost forever? I am so sad at the thought of that. It hurts my heart. I wanted to give them to Anabelle someday and tell her stories and have them mean something to her, too.
JW remains optimistic I will get them back. And tries to soothe me with his words of assurance. He is a sweet and patient man. But that is another thing about grief. Even the sweetest words from the kindest heart do little to ease the pain. Even after all this time, there is still great hurt.
The other thing I have learned in the last few years, is when I do cry over missing her so much, I can almost physically feel the presence of the Lord. It is an amazing moment when I know – really know – that He is present and loving me in my time of hurt. Even in my sadness over the loss of my spoons. I realize they are a material thing, but He understands. That helps.