Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!!!

It's really spelled Marcia, but I figured it wouldn't be as cute that way. Marcia is my new therapist, and she rocks.

I met with her today for the first time. At first, I didn't think I'd like her since she's older. No offense against older people: I just thought I'd relate better with someone closer to my age. But I really like Marcia. She didn't make me restate all my old mistakes. She didn't make me feel like my past is full of sins. She did, however, give me great suggestions on how to improve my life.

I need to start recognizing my wants and needs, and I need to start recognizing their importance. I need to start taking care of myself, because if I don't, no one will. I need to stop minimizing my desires. I can't keep 'letting things go,' because sooner or later, I'll be letting everything go. I might already be there.

I think this is start of a beautiful therapist-patient relationship. =)

The Memorial

I went to Nanny's memorial yesterday. I was more nervous about seeing my grandpa than the memorial itself. I hadn't seen him in over 9 years, and I knew that his dementia had started. I shouldn't have worried at all.

The memorial was very nice. It was for all the people at the nursing home that had died in the past two months. I didn't cry until the chaplain talked of my grandmother's smile. I lost it a little there.

The chaplain's message was one of healing. She talked of grief, and how it was normal. But she reminded us that the people who have left us are not grieving; they are celebrating. They are now without pain, without anger, without the wheelchairs and medicines that bound them here on Earth. She made a great analogy that I will take with me through life. She talked of Thanksgiving, and of the huge feast we will have. But she mentioned that we are only having the appetizer. She said, "Think of all the food we will stuff ourselves stupid with this Thursday. Then imagine how this is only a small appetizer. Those who we are remembering today have the real feast." She talked of us only having the appetizer, but Nanny eating the dessert. I loved the way she explained this. There is no reason for me to be sad that Nanny is gone, because now she is sitting at the BIG table, and she's eating all the dessert she can handle. I will cherish that thought.

Grandpa was better than I expected. When I sat next to him, he had the look of "Who are you?" I then put my hand on his arm and said, "It's okay Grandpa. It's Elizabeth. It's me." He sat and looked into my eyes for a few moments, and then I saw his eyes receive clarity. He said, "You used to be blonde." I had to laugh. We talked about Nanny, about him golfing, about his great grandson, and about me teaching. It was hysterical when out of the blue, he asked, "So have you quit teaching yet?" HA HA. I said, "No Grandpa. No such luck, though Dad would love it if I did." It was so great to visit with him. I wish he were closer so I could be with him more. I am afraid that may have been the last time I see him until we are both sitting at the BIG table, ready for dessert. But what a great dessert it will be.

I hope Nanny is eating a huge piece of cherry pie right now.

Life as a Zombie

I feel undead. I feel like I'm walking through life on autopilot. It seems as if I have no emotions anymore. Things that I would usually stand up against, I just let slide. I have been described as a 'passionate' person. I'm never just happy. I'm ecstatic. I'm never just sad. I'm destroyed. I'm never just angry. I'm livid. Yet lately, I've been....blah.

How does one snap out of a trance if that said person has no idea what put them there?

How do I fix me? Am I even broken? Is this how life will be for me from now on?

I feel like a shell of my former self. Yes, I tend to be a drama queen. But at least I knew who I was then. At least I could define me. Am I nothing now that the drama has died?

Nanny

She called kisses 'sugar.' The first thing she'd say when we got out of the car was "Come here and give me some sugar." She was always waiting at the backdoor when we pulled in.

She always had individually wrapped cheese slices. This was a big deal to me since we never had them at home. She also always had popsicles.

She had a huge black trash bag full of toys that she kept in the closet. I always had to play a round of Trouble with her during our weekend visits.

We used to sit on the porch and watch the cars go by. We didn't even need to talk.

She loved to eat at Pizza Hut. Grandpa wouldn't let her eat there, so she always got my brother and I to ask for it. That way, he couldn't say no.

She made the best fried chicken and homemade french fries. Those fries were the skinniest things I've ever seen. They were so crunchy. I still don't like crunchy fries. I'd only ate hers. She still cooked with lard.

She would always take us to the mall and slip my brother and me a $20. She'd always whisper "Don't tell you father," though of course he always found out.

She had saltine crackers and napkins in her purse at all times. Every now and then, you could fine peanuts from a local restaurant in there, too.

Her living room was plastered in these hideous mirrors that had gold flecks in them. My brother and I always played the "sneak up on Grandma" game, and for years, we had no idea how she always knew when we were behind her.

I miss her. I miss Nanny. She's effectively been gone for 10 years. I've hardly given her thought over the past decade. I thought I had said goodbye 10 years ago when I went to visit her, and she didn't recognize me. Apparently, I never said goodbye. And now I ache because my little boy will never know my fun Nanny. She would have absolutely loved to chase him around the house. But that will never happen now. And that makes me cry.

It's nice to remember her, though. A friend recently asked me about her, asked me what she was like. I brushed off the question, but I guess it's good to remember. It means she's still here. She's not really gone. Thanks.

Finally, some peace

My grandmother passed away Thursday night. She hasn't known who I am for over 10 years now. I remember going to visit her my junior or senior year in high school, and she looked at me with those beautiful "Murray" eyes, but she wasn't there. She was blank inside. She didn't demand 'some sugar' like she always used to. She didn't tell me how beautiful I was becoming. She just stared at me quizzically. That was the last time I saw her. I couldn't bare to go back. That woman in the wheelchair was not my grandmother.

Finally, she can have peace. She can remember who she is. I hope that she is smiling down on us right now. I imagine she is watching me and my family. Now she can see that she is a great grandmother, and she can take delight in watching my son grow into a little boy.

Finally, my father can have peace. He has had many rough years leading to this. He had to take power of attorney over both his parents. That has to be a very difficult thing to do. He called last night to tell me the news, and he almost sounded happy. I am sure he is relieved that my grandmother can be herself again.

Wow. I didn't think I'd cry when she finally let go. I guess I was wrong. I'm just happy that she can now be with God.

I love you, Nanny.