When she left this world, I had a very small emotional reaction. I actually had a lot of guilt about it, maybe I still do. I wondered if it meant I didn't love her enough or if I didn't need her enough or that I wouldn't miss her enough. But another possibility is that for a loved one with alzheimers, they just slowly begin slipping away from you. Years of slipping. And then for me another possibility is just my own relationship with death. I truly believe that we are just passing by. We are dreaming. Our lives here are like dreams only. We will wake up to a beautiful reality.
But the last few months have been hard. My grandfather found a new companion, and I am truly happy for him. But it was just so quick to let everything go- every physical memory of her, it seems like he just abandoned. And maybe he was ready, but I guess I wasn't. And it all happened only days after I left Kansas. I had been there for four months just twiddling my thumbs. . . and then I'm gone and can't even go say goodbye or salvage something before it's gone. So for me, that hurts. I know my aunts and my mom got the chance.. but their memories are different from mine and what has meaning to them, doesn't necessarily to me.
But I bring this all up because I hired someone to come clean my house and cook. And while I was upstairs, she was downstairs AND USED THE CERAMIC BOWL FOR THE CROCKPOT as if it were a pot on the stove and it BROKE. It was my grandmother's. And while I have other things of hers, it was the most meaningful and most impregnated with her presence than anything else. I loved using it, knowing that I was feeding my family with the same crockpot with which she fed hers. And now it's hiding in the back of the cabinet. At some point I am going to have to face it.
I guess in a way I should be thankful it broke. Because it awoke something dormant in me. And suddenly, I feel somehow more strongly connected to her through that thin veil that seperated the "living" and the "dead".