There are some times of each year that you just know will be shitty. This particular week is one of them. In various years, three of the most important people to ever touch my life all passed away. Add pregnancy hormones and an absent husband and you have one hell of a craptastic week.
The first 5 years of my life, I lived and breathed for my great grandmother, Mom's grandmother. My mom was back in college, and I'd stay with my Nonnie every day when Mom went to class. We had a very special relationship. Even at 5 years old, I knew this. I remember the day she died. I remember where I was (Mamaw's house) and what I was wearing when my parents told me, or rather, when my Daddy told me. My mother couldn't quite speak, if I recall correctly. Nonnie had been her one and only constant during her childhood. We both struggled when she died. I still vividly remember all things surrounding her death on February 10, including her funeral a few days later, again, including what I wore. I wasn't sure what death was at the age of 5, but I knew enough to know my Nonnie was gone.
In 2005, I lost my Mamaw. My Dad's mom was the strongest woman I've ever known. Being the only granddaughter, she and I were special together. I was the one who drove her around, took her shopping (and to Burger King for fish sandwiches and vanilla malts), tilled her garden, learned her recipes, looked at her pictures, balanced her checkbook, learned the family stories, called her almost daily, and was the one she told when she was ready to finally go to the hospital when she was dying. She had a not so very long battle with ovarian cancer, and when she decided she was ready to go, she went. Her death is still the most peaceful event I've ever experienced. Myself, along with all my relatives, cousins, aunts, uncles were in the ICU cubicle when she died. Her breathing and heart rate slowed, and we all thought she was gone. Then she perked back up for a minute, enough for a cousin to comment that clearly heaven wasn't perfectly ready for her yet and she was waiting for them to sweep the floor again. A few minutes later, she was gone. We were all there with her when she took her last breath. It was peaceful and perfect, if you can describe a death as perfect, on February 13. I can tell you from experience, flower shops are not prepared to deal with grieving people picking out funeral flowers on Valentine's Day. But that's what my aunt and I did that day. And yes, it sucked as much as you can imagine.
Through both of those deaths, my Aunt Hazy had been there for me. She was Nonnie's daughter and roommate and had been an important part of mine and Mom's lives. She'd never had any children and made Mom and her own. She spoiled us both, not with money or stuff, but with love, homemade fudge, and amazing margaritas. She was the person that we could both go to for advice, or venting, or anything really. She was a sharp tongued, tell it like it is, smart ass who smoked like a chimney and rarely kept her thoughts to herself. In short, mine and Mom's hero. When she died on February 8, my world was totally shaken. During her wake and funeral, almost everyone there came up to me and told me what an important role I'd had in Sara's life, how she never missed an opportunity to talk about me and what I was doing at that point in life. I knew she had played a huge role in my life, but I never considered the role I'd played in hers. It made the hole she left even bigger, a hole that is still very much there.
I'm so ready for Bob to be home, but his trip back home keeps getting cancelled. He's been told the significance of this week in the past, but I haven't reminded him this year, and he hasn't been at home to see my sadness. This year, it's been my own sad struggle alone, which is okay. It has made me even more ready for my little guy to be here. I need someone to hug and snuggle with, besides Hank, who has had the most epic flatulence this week. Thanks, bud.... as if I needed another reason to make my eyes water.
