When the heart finally catches up...

I knew this was coming. Honestly. Intellectually it's the part of the cycle of life. Every beginning has an end. Sure, that was something I can handle.

Unfortunately with me, my heart and mind do not necessarily stay synced; so I was feeling out of sorts for a few days until I learned that my grandfather-in-law passed away finally today when it really gained more emphasis. He was in hospice for a week prior only turning for the worse Friday.  If I care to be honest I was dreading the moment when he did finally kick the bucket, bite the Big One, went on home to heaven. The man lived almost 98 years, loved Grandma for 74 of them. She was the only one for him too. He was a very quiet man with a gentle way and a great sense of humor, and a disarming presence. I know it sounds strange, but I found myself being able to relax and be me; not trying to make myself acceptable to him. I got the reassurance if he thought you weren't up to par, he'd let you know.

I worked this weekend as my usual schedule. Josh had to take his mother, Patty, up to the retirement home where her parents lived for quite some time now due to me recovering from my work stint. (For me it's very stressful environment - a lot of different people, way too much background noise that I can't block out like normal people can, and so much going on at one time! But luckily for me, some co-workers and my boss makes it bearable. I usually appreciate the following day after my 'stint' to be anti-social as possible: stay in a quiet bed sleeping much of the day away. I find if I don't have a crash day I tend to drag for the rest of the week.)

So this morning - 'evening' for me - Josh finally recovered enough to tell me how his day went (the last few days have been very stressful for him too). Five minutes before they signed in, Gramps passed away. Before he took his final breath, he opened his eyes to find Grandma looking at him holding his hand saying, "I love you and it's okay for you to go now." Then he closed his eyes and breathed his last.

The love that they have and how it was displayed touched me. I was beginning to tear up, my heart finally catching up to what my mind already knew. (I don't think death stops love ever. Call me a romantic if that makes your quills any sharper for the 'realists' out there. *raspberry*) While I was beginning to cry, a song came to mind that I haven't heard for some time which broke the dam wide open for me:

Love, Me 

Sung by Collin Raye.

I read a note my Grandma wrote back in 1923
Grandpa kept it in his coat, and he showed it once to me
He said, "Boy, you might not understand, but a long, long time ago,
Grandma's daddy didn't like me none, but I love your Grandma so.

We had this crazy plan to meet and run away together
Get married in the first town we came to and live forever
But nailed to the tree where we were supposed to meet instead
I found this letter, and this is what it said :

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me."

I read those words just hours before my Grandma passed away
In the doorway of the church where me and Grandpa stopped to pray
I know I've never seen him cry in all my fifteen years
But as he said these words to her, his eyes fill up with tears

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me." 

So while Josh was telling me about the final arrangements and here I was crying, finally just snuggling up to him for I felt too vulnerable to sob alone. Poor hubby just hugged me until the storm passed. Emotionally I sometimes feel like a desert - pretty arid, but when it rains, it's a downpour.

I feel better now, and more like myself; somehow his passing isn't something I'm going to 'fight' since now I've accepted it: Someone that I love is no longer physically here. Will I cry again? Possible. Grief doesn't evaporate like dew on the grass in the early morning, it's a process in of itself that has its own pace. Like water, I need to go with the flow and let it out since it's a poor idea to keep emotions stagnant for they become toxic that way.

Pursuing the purse...

Don't worry, I don't think I'd ever have to go do that 'matching shoes' deal with it.

For years unending I didn't have what seems to be a must for every woman - a purse. Honestly, thought it was not that needed. Still not 100% sure it's an absolute must have, but it's nice. Hubby doesn't mind having a bag to carry around things, but for some reason I had a hang up about it.

At work I tend to one of those sillys that just can't use the pens the job provides - after all, where's the fun if everyone's writing in black or blue? So I got me some colored pens: true blue (blue pens at work tend to run the navy blue-ish color which is traditional), pink, orange, green, purple, and gray. Gray's the coolest in my opinion, it's not black but still dark! So looking up who wrote down what is so much easier - just look for splashes of color. Yes, I was fair and did buy pens to give to some co-workers but I think they took theirs home. Have yet to see someone else write in colors, but no one has yet complained - so guess being a little colorful isn't too bad. (Did I ever mention I work at Subway?)

Then there's the datebook. Got more dates to keep track of then when I work and when assignments are due; so I got a little day to day book so I can write down things and keep myself a bit more organized. Unfortunately it can't fit in my back pocket and if I don't have it on me, I don't use it. I did grow to detest the random scraps of paper with appointment information scribbled on it scattered all over my desk, so I figured I needed to get a system started of sorts. I did try Sticky notes, honest, but they are so distracting on the monitor and if the sticky lost its tackiness... I didn't want to end up with a very tacky situation I witnessed one time: a supervisor I knew had sticky for stickies - his workplace was a post-it storm with scattered clear spots.

I tend to also have stray thoughts I need to write down from time to time - or they run off again and good luck remembering what they were. Ideas, lists of things to do, appointments to make, and inventory numbers for work. I did carry paper in my wallet and a pen, but it was getting a bit ridiculous even for me. I used a little Chinese red brocade backpack with golden dragons on it, but was afraid of it becoming a causality of stains from work... One of my co-workers is notorious when it comes to working with anything relating to sauces - I'm still wondering how she manages to get sauces under the cutting board when she's working the veggie section and if she's refilling them there's no telling where sauce splash will be found. I tend to be a lot neater, so I often get the task to fill the sauce bottles.

So it dawned on me one evening, while visiting my sister-in-law after taking our niece out to eat that I may have to actually get one of those 'necessities'. I asked her if she'd want to help me look for a little purse, not a saddle bag - sorry, they're actually called satchels - and I could have knocked her over with a feather. We set up a day and time, and I regretted not having a camera to catch her expression for it was truly priceless.

When the day came, I learned how very different I was from Billie - purses she thought were cute were too frilly in my opinion. Some she liked generated the ick sensation to me - I didn't care for the texture of some. But I did find a purse, one that was better then the little pack I was using for it had more then two pockets and had inner pockets too. So I put all my pens for work, datebook, other stuff, little origami paper (yes, I like to do origami while waiting for the doctor or my order or just waiting in general), and other little niceties in it. It's not crammed full and I still carry a wallet in my jeans. My Scooby Doo wallet, of course - what, you'd think I'd let my show of whimsy be in colorful ink?