I’ve never been afraid of death. It is a critical part to nature’s journey. I accept this as true and choose to not worry about it too much. There are very few things that are inevitable and death is one of them.
This doesn’t mean that I am unphased when someone passes away. Losing my grandmother last week hurts. I’m going to miss her cooking, her laughter, her brightly colored eyeshadow, and her fondness for playing Phase 10 at the worn kitchen table next to the toasty wood stove. I’ll think of her whenever I go into a thrift shop. I’ll feel her with me the next time that I stick my hands in warm soil. I even bought a tube of lipstick in a color and brand that she used to wear (L’oreal Color Riche in Pink Flamingo) despite my love of much more expensive makeup brands. My grandmother would never have spent $20 on a tube of lipstick like I do.
I should probably talk about my philosophy on discussing death with children, but at the moment, my words escape me. Maybe this is a topic to be revisited at a later date when I am no longer actively grieving. I’m giving myself the gift of grace for as long as I need. Everyone grieves differently.
Next year, on the anniversary of my grandmother’s death, I’ll be making a New England boiled dinner, yeast rolls, and chocolate wacky cake with peanut butter frosting. We’ll go thrift shopping wearing Pink Flamingo lipstick and we’ll play a game of Phase 10 at the table. I’ll tell the Dinosaur story after story about a woman that she has met but will never remember.
Don’t worry, Grammie. I won’t forget.