I would have barely been able to contain myself… wiggling and dancing around the room. Impatiently waiting until David woke up to tell him. He would have smiled and hugged me and told me great job… I am happy for you… Then he would have grinned and rubbed my belly and said… I love your belly… you are beautiful….and the wonderful thing is that he actually meant it.
I realized something this morning. This is not so easy for me to admit … even to myself.
I have lived most of my life in fear. The times as a child I remember not being afraid… when mom and I were lying in bed looking at the strange patterns on the bedroom ceiling… picking out different characters or scenes we saw. Then I was not afraid… I was safe and warm and secure in my mom’s love. Mom and Dad were already living in different places. When I was riding Princess (horse)… her hooves flying over the ground… clinging to her back … riding bareback hanging on to her main… feeling the glory of her muscles flowing smoothly under me… it was as if we were one being flying over the ground together. Riding on the back of Unk’s motorcycle (my Uncle Gene, mom’s brother) when I was very little… the wind whipping around us I was small enough that my feet did not reach the foot pegs.
Ok… gotta stop for a while… started thinking of when and where that fear started… who knows it’s insidious…
I remember Grandma and I were together and she fell down. Mom and told me to take care of Grandma… and I let her fall. I hurt my Grandma. Grandma’s body had the same genetic disease… malfunction… whatever you want to call it… in her legs that mom and I both do. They swelled… massive veins… running ulcers… you couldn’t count on them to support you … I realize logically now that I could not have prevented her fall… but my heart still hurts that my Grandma fell and I could not stop it. Mom had, had to go somewhere for something and I was with Grandma. I brought Grandma pillows so she could get back up with her crutches. I was a very little girl…
Sara (bullmastiff) just walked into my office and hugged me with her massive head and neck. She is panting… nervous and concerned because I was crying. She would take all the pain and worry away if she could. Her hugs help… but she can not take it away any more than I could prevent my Grandma from falling.
Each of us has to walk our own path… and sometimes the trail is brutal.
When Grandma’s body died, October 1969, my world as I knew it ended. Grandma was my safe place, kind of like David has been. I think she was Mom’s safe place too; and Unk’s as well. When ever a bad storm would come up we would head down the hill to Grandma’s house. She would bake these huge sourcream cookies and I would get ingredients for her and sit in the door watching the rain and playing with granddaddy long legs. I didn’t hurt them… just let them run across my hands when I saw them… their legs having such a light feathery touch. Mom took me to the funeral with her… and I kissed grandma’s body’s forehead. She wasn’t there… just a cold rubbery body was there… with her hair fixed all strange and make up on her. Grandma wore her long silky silver hair in a bun… and never wore make up. She had blue eyes…. And was around 6 ft tall. I am named after her. Her name in this life was Etta Mae… My middle name is Etta.
She had this long grey fuzzy soft coat… like fur but not… after she passed I used to sleep with it… curled around it hanging on… I saw her once in a dream… she was walking down this road trying to come back to us. We moved from our house into Grandma’s house after she passed. It had propane heat and we heated solely with wood….or whatever else we could find to burn.
Mom was there, but she wasn’t the same anymore… Uncle Gene was there… but he was not the same either. It’s like the lights had gone out in their eyes. What had been warm and safe… was cold dark, filled with pain, nothingness, and anger… I was afraid … and cold and dark inside too… I was nine years old. I remember my 5th grade teacher talking to me… Mrs. Borden. But I can’t remember what she was saying… I just see her face in my mind’s eye.
The night Grandma died… she had, had gallbladder surgery. And from what I understand they fed her bean soup… and she bloated and burst her stitches and bled out. Did they actually feed her bean soup… I don’t know… that’s what I remember. I remember I wanted to go home from the hospital and sleep in our own home with mom….and mom gave in and took me home rather than staying with Grandma. I loved that little house… and my room… it had windows all around… you could lie there in bed and look at the stars... and moon. We had one phone in the house… it was on the wall. We went rushing back to the hospital… I know we rushed because grandma’s body was still in the bed… and there was a pool of blood under it. Deep red and shiny… I blamed myself for Grandma dying…. I felt that I had killed my grandma. I never spoke to mom about this until recently. Yes I know it’s illogical… especially after the way David crossed. I could not stop that either.
The dogs, cats, and birds in the house are upset… because I am upset. Willie (blue parti pom) is nervous and whining… he has this high pitched whine that can get through whatever grief fog I may be submerged in…the sound piercing my ears into my consciousness…
Grandma knew her time was coming. I remember earlier that summer she had told me she did not have much time left. She was trying to prepare me for her crossing… I could not allow myself to see what she was saying. I look and see signs now regarding David’s crossing… 43 years later and I did the same thing that 9 year old girl did… I went into total denial… unable to bear the thought.
When Mom crossed in September… September 6th 2012. I was sad but not surprised. She had told me about a dream she had about this being coming to get her. I knew her time was near. I celebrated her freedom from pain… freedom from that wheelchair… from all the emotional angst … I felt her joy after her crossing. I loved my mom… I still do… I always will. We lost each other for so long… Lost my Uncle while we were all in this life too… so much emotional pain. Now they are both free. I celebrate their freedom. I celebrate Grandma’s freedom too! David is free of needles; he knows … not belief… but knows what waits on the other side… I feel his peace.
When David looked at me … he saw me. He loved me. Not some pseudo representation of me I was hiding behind… and I saw him. He was … and is so beautiful…
Yes both of us carried darkness within us… pain fear anger… David no longer does. He is free.
I think this is all for now…
May you walk in peace…
Mary E. Robbins
307.788.0202
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