I got a letter from just Nana today. It was the weirdest thing. I was hoping she'd write, but I wasn't prepared for seeeing her signed name lacking the usual "& Grandfather" that follws it. It's on different paper. Different handwriting.
The things we all laughed at Grandfather for- the tiny notepad he always carried in his pocket (and now that I think of it- I don't ever remember him wearing a shirt that didn't button up & have a pocket- even his pajamas buttoned up and had a pocket.) to take "notes" on. The crazy random facts & articles he'd put in his letters. Those are the things I miss the most.
I miss his shirts - especially that green one. I miss the way he smells. Smelled. I miss his uncanny knack for being prepared. The way his garage smells like rubberbands and plastic bags and car parts. Rubberbands and plastic bags were the things you never threw away, because inevitably you would need one.
I don't know if I ever really grieved him. It's only been 85 days - I guess that's okay. It was so different - almost like I didn't want to - maybe for Nana - maybe because I just didn't feel like it.
I'll never forget hearing the news. Trying to stay in a state of mind that was rational - I had to finish working. I wore all black to work that day. I walked to my boss' office stoically and asked if I could leave. On my way back to my office, I hadn't cried yet, and as if I had hit a brick wall, I fell out of those rediculous shoes I insist on wearing and I actually felt what it was like to have a sob break out in your throat. Thankfully, I caught myself on the chair I was walking by. If I hadn't I probably would've knocked my noggin on the table and THAT would have been fun explaining to my family.
I don't think that happened because I was sad or hurting or mourning my Grandfather - but because I loved my Dad more in that instant than any other moment that I can remember in life. My Dad had just that instant lost - LOST - his Dad. And I knew he would be the calm, sarcastic, level-headed, God-fearing man that he always is. I knew that even in his grief, my Dad would choose Christ.
Jesus, give me a man who loves you, forever chooses you over me and knows to love me when, 85 days later, I have to process hurt.
She don't need anybody to tell her she's pretty
She's heard it every single day of her life
He's got to wonder what she sees in him when theres so many others
Standing in line
She gives herself to him, but it's still on the outside.
She's alone in this world
She's nobody's girl
She's nobody's girl
She shows up at his doorstep in the middle of the night
Then she disappears for weeks at a time
Just enough to keep him wanting more
But never is he satisfied
And he's left to pick up the pieces
Wondering what does he do this for
She's off in her own little world
She's nobody's girl
She's nobody's girl
He said, "Before I met her, I didn't love nothing.
I could take it or leave it,That was okay, but,
She brings out a want in me, of things I didn't even
Know that I need."
She does anything she wants, anytime she wants to.
With anyone, you know, she wants it all.
Still she gets all upset over the least little thing
When you hurt her, it makes you feel so small.
And she's a walking contradiction, but I ache for her inside.
She's fragile like a string of pearls,
She's nobody's girl.
She's nobody's girl.
She's nobody's girl.
1 comment:
I remember that feeling. I remember the first birthday card I got that said, "Love, Nana." I remember her calling that day and singing to me all by herself. I cried through the entire "Happy Birthday".
You're so strong. Don't rush the grieving process, sweet friend. I love you.
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