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o you have those moments when you want to let things out? You know, when you feel the need to share an idea or an experience about the loss of your grandchild and you actually want to talk about it?
I had the urge to talk about this blog yesterday at Easter dinner.
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 It's Easter morning at 8:30 a.m. My ham is in the oven and I am taking a moment to gear up for our family dinner.
Everyone comes to grandma and grandpa's house on Easter. My brothers and sisters will be here with their families. It will be quite a special day. But, it won't be complete. Kitty will not be here. I wrote earlier about the etched silver locket I wear with Kitty's photo inside. My daughters and two oldest granddaughters also have them. I wear mine every time I leave the house. Kitty is my personal guardian angel who protects me whenever I venture out into the world's craziness.
Often, I receive compliments on my pretty necklace and - every now and then - I get THE question. If you also wear a locket, you know already what people ask: 'Who do you wear in your locket?" I straight out tell them that it's my granddaughter and, sure enough, they just have to be curious and ask the follow-up: "May I ask? What happened? How did she die?" Oh boy, are they in for it ... Sometimes, the most helpful and kind words come from people you would never expect would say anything at all. That is exactly what happened to me just after Kitty's funeral.
My daughter reserved the church social hall and parish volunteers to provide and serve lunch ... you know, the funeral lunch ladies. After everyone had eaten and most people had gone home or back to work, I wandered into the kitchen to thank the group of women - and there were a couple of men in the group, too - who gave up their day to serve us. One of the volunteers in the kitchen expressed her condolences and then took it a step further. Before I begin Part 2, there is a bit of a backstory you will need to hear in order to understand why these words were helpful.
Without getting into too much detail, I will say that I never wanted my daughter to marry Kitty's dad. In fact, I fought it in every way I could, which included talking to both her pastor and mine. Very simply, I did not trust future son-in-law. There were three people who said helpful things to me when Kitty died.
The first was my dear friend from church, Rita. We've known one another for more than 30 years and she is the one person I actually believe when she speaks and to whom I listen. We don't always agree, but I have much respect for both her and for her ideas and opinions. A few years ago, after a funeral at our church, she made a comment that stuck with me: "Death is a part of life." What a simple statement, yet every once in awhile I think on it for awhile and always end up with the same conclusion: It sure is. Death is everyone's reality. Yesterday, I ordered an age progressed photo of Kitty. This is the third year I have done this. Her first birthday was just three months after the accident, so I knew what she looked like and - even though I know she would have grown and changed in three months - I could still picture how she looked. But by the time Kitty's second birthday approached, I was really curious. Would she look like her big sister? Or more like her mom? A need was rumbling inside me and it was something I just had to do.
 It's time to start our list of 'resources'. When we think of the word 'resource', it conjures up ideas of books we can read and support groups we can join ... very important places to go for inspiration, sharing, support and helpful ideas. But, for me, there have been a few unconventional resources, too. I am going to start our list with one of them.
I know that I am not the only grieving grandparent in the world. There are LOTS of us. Maybe I am strange, but I do glance through the obituaries a few times a week and there is usually someone listed who is young enough to leave behind grandparents. So, why aren't there more resources for us?
Maybe we have to create them. After all, we are the experts on what it's like to lose your child's child and everything it involves. For three days - from the time I arrived at the hospital on the Friday evening of the accident through that next Monday - I didn't sleep much. The slight reprieve on Saturday night, when we knew there would be no change in Kitty's condition, was the one night I got a just-OK night's rest.
So, by late Monday afternoon, when we left the hospital, my mind was still reeling, but my body was done. My daughter wanted - no NEEDED - our family, including aunts, uncles and cousins, to come together. She wanted people who loved her to surround her. That meant everyone would gather at my house - and they did. |
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