At Ikea, I could not - for the life of me - find a cooling rack. And be it the situation or the timing or the horrendous amount of people (all of whom I didn't know and didn't care about) I nearly lost my mind trying to find a damn cooling rack (and didn't, and never bothered to look for one again until a few days ago).
My mom called me to tell me what happened. We all knew it was coming, as you usually do with an elderly loved one. But it's like anything that you expect to happen, you prepare yourself and you wait and wait and then when it finally does happen, all the preparation or whatever you were doing before goes out the window with the bathwater, the bathtub, the baby and your ability not to cry in public.
March 8th is International Women's Day and I had written a blog post for my Grandmother. In it I said:
"So how do we know what makes a woman great? When she is gone and all those things she was, things she said and did become little holes in our day."I still find those holes in each day, although now I don't look for them quite as often. Edna St. Vincent Millay once said:
“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.”There is something said about time healing wounds (or whatever) but it doesn't. We get busy and have to think about other things, and although I guess the pain isn't so focused and sharp as it once was, that doesn't change that it is still pain.
All that to say although there are still little holes in my day, now I am seeing parts of my Grandmother in other things - such as my niece who sometimes says "Heeeey" like my Grandmother used to - and that fills in a little gap and keeps out the cold wind a bit.
In keeping with the idea of holes and sharpness of things, I leave you with this thought (a sad, yet comforting one):
"Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.” — W.S. Merwin