Thank you all for your words of support last week. My sadness was caused by waiting for the phone call that my Grandma Fox had died. I spent a couple of days with her in Atlanta the weekend before last, was able to say goodbye then, but having to leave my dad and brother to come home and wait in a daze for a week was more difficult than saying goodbye. I couldn't start to cry, I couldn't start to mourn, I could only wait.
Grandma lived a long, full, laughter filled life, one we can all learn from. She taught me how to tell a good story, make mashed potatoes, and to laugh, always laugh, even in the worst of moments. Hers was a life to celebrate, not to mourn. I miss her, but I grieve for my family, they are in such pain. The sorrow I feel is a result of not being able to say a magic word and take all of their hurt away. I know this will come in time, but for now, we all are left to make our own way out of the fog.
As we stood by her graveside, my Grandpa remarked the cemetery people must be related to parking lot people. Not a tree in sight. He was right. The only thing growing from the earth were the headstones and memorial benches. I thought of one of my favorite thinking spots back home, the old cemetery behind the library, with it's huge shading oaks and rolling hills. I may have to accidentally push a few acorns into the ground next time I visit Grandma. And a rose bush. Those were her favorite.