It turns out, if you want to be a writer these days you need to actually WRITE. And I haven't been doing that for about, oh, the last four years.
My life got a little complicated, you could say.
REQUIEM I
I was spurred back to my blogging days by the events of this past weekend. For those of you who don't know, my grandfather passed away and we spent all of last week in Utah attending his funeral and spending time with family. One of the things he loved most about me was my writing, and I took that to heart.
His death was not unexpected, but rather welcomed. A long battle with cancer had left him weak and depressed, and barely the man he once was.
So I chatted with him, just he and I. Driving in the car. Me talking to the space above my head, trying not to break as I told him how I would miss him.
First, we laughed about the hatchet job I did on the closing hymn. A solemn piece written about the existence of our eternal father in heaven, it could have been the hallmark of a great send off. Unfortunately for us all, I was the organist. Those in attendance were probably clamoring to trade places with my dear Grandpa in the casket. Never has a song sounded so painful.
Panicked and flustered, I pushed several wrong buttons on the organ, landing us all in "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" territory. 4 verses later, we were done, and I have never been so embarrassed in my life.
If this conversation had really played out, the very first thing he would have said to me is "I didn't know you played the organ!" And I would have joked "Obviously, I can't!".... and then he would ask me about the kids and how did they do on the drive up.
I will miss his positivity. His 100's and smiley faces. I will miss his stories about airplanes and military exercises and trains.
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REQUIEM II
I did not think I'd be back here so soon. I had prayed (we all had) that my grandmother would rally after the death of my grandfather. That she would somehow, miraculously, remember all of us, be able to eat and drink, that she would be able to go on walks with us outside-- she and us and her new bionic hip. I had petitioned the Lord frequently that she would get to travel to Arizona and see the lives we have built here, influenced by her.
As you can probably guess, that did not happen.
My grandma Blanch was a woman to be reckoned with. She loved fiercly, was loyal to those close to her, and had her own strong opinions.
I will miss all those things. I wish just once I could:
*Go shopping with her. Preferably to JC Penney back in 1997 when she bought me an emerald green dress that "went beautifully" with my eyes and hair.
*Go to Lagoon with her. I have grand memories of my younger years and time at Lagoon with my grandparents. We would spend lots of time in Pioneer Village, and my grandparents would tell me stories about the brave souls who journeyed here during the 1800's. I inherited her love of those great people, the pioneers of our faith, and our state.
*See my kids one last time. Oh, my Joel and Charlotte and Noah, who will never know the fabulous woman she was. She loved them, even in her last few months when she couldn't recall who they were or why they were visiting.
The week before my grandma died I went with my mom to her care facility. We had gotten a call that "Jace" couldn't be wakened. Unresponsive and pale faced, my grandma appeared to be close to the end. My dear sweet aunt Celia was already there, crying. After they told my mom what was going on, she marched on over to my grandma and said "Mom? Are you all right? Can you wake up?" Grandma opened her eyes, annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm just resting my eyes!"
We all laughed, and she told us she felt fine, just tired.
And then something happened, that I will always be grateful for.
I took her hand, and talked quietly to her. I told her how I loved her big brown eyes, just as she used to tell me. I told her the story of how I, her grandaughter Kristen, was born with brown eyes and she was had been so proud because I had Frank's eyes (her father).
I apologized. I told her how sorry I was that I didn't tell her more often how much I appreciated her and loved her. Without my grandmother, I would have never finished the math classes that completed my degree. They came to so many of my recitals and events as a high schooler that I became a bit surly and snarky, resenting the obligation to go talk to them after every event. Regretfully, I'll never be able take back my eye rolls, my sarcastic attitude.
I told her how wonderful she was. How she filled my life with pink delicacy and appreciation for flowers and lace and glass perfume bottles and a good piece of chocolate. I reminded her how she had taught me to always appreciate antiques, how she taught me to have "classic style".
But they loved me anyway.
My grandma Jaciel Blanch died a week later. What I wouldn't give to have that problem now.
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