People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.
~Marcel Proust
I was born in the Summer - smack dab in the middle of August, with sweltering heat and high humidity. For a Summer baby, I pretty much suck. I'm pale, with brown hair (it's not sunkissed in any way), and oh, did I forget to mention? I hate to sweat and I hate the heat. Sweating makes me think of my face and how it reddens. It makes me think of runny make up. And then there's the fact that it reminds me of PIGS, and I am a big girl - so I would rather not associate myself with a pig. The Summer is good for three things: Vacations, Pool, and Beach. Put them all together, and I'm in heaven. Aside from that, I don't like the Summer.
I am absolutely head over heels in love with Spring, though. Everything turns green again, it's not too hot/not too cold, the smell of freshly cut grass starts to drift through the neighborhood, and I can garden! However, Spring doesn't like me too much. Spring means that the heating unit gets turned off, the windows get opened, aaaand the pollen gets in. As much as I love to take in the smell of spring, I can't do it because of my stuffy nose. Then there are the surprise nose bleeds while driving, and being out of napkins. The pollen kills me a little bit - taking away my sense of smell and taste, and sometimes my sight because it irritates my eyes so much. I become a sneezing, mucus-y, miserable ball of ick. I always get a sinus infection when Spring starts. I will still subject myself to it though...I love Spring...but it hates me!
I love the wintertime. We both love each other, even if I get a little irritated with it sometimes because it's so bitterly cold. I love snow - I don't know what it is, but it makes me into a little kid. I want to go sledding, I want to have a snowball fight, I want to build forts, and I want to have hot chocolate and sit by the window. I love watching the snow fall from a gray sky, totally overcast with no sun peaking through - just gray and white. When everything turns white, even the dirty city of Baltimore looks so pretty, pristine, and innocent. It's just so beautiful, and makes me think of Christmas time! I just feel so childish. I want to spin in circles with my face turned skyward, tongue hanging out to catch those wayward snowflakes. I want to giggle and throw myself down in a snow mound and make snow angels. AH! I'm getting excited for the Winter right now!! The only thing I could live without is ice though...my clumsy self slips and falls one too many times...(I broke my tailbone once on ice...but that's another story...). I just love Winter time!
Then there's the Fall...I like the Fall...there's this smell in the air that makes you think of Halloween and Thanksgiving. The leaves start falling and get crunchy. Have you ever walked down the sidewalk, ankle deep in leaves? In my neighborhood, that's a given. I love the sound it makes, and crunching down on them. I was totally the kid that threw themselves into your painstakingly managed pile of leaves. I like the change in weather - once again, not too hot/not too cold...just right. But, it is a sad time of the year. We have a lot of "death anniversary's" to "celebrate". I know I took the long way around, but this blog was really just me wanting to pay tribute to them, my long lost loved ones.
Fall makes me think of them, all the time (not that I don't on a regular basis). Late August 2007 (Still Summer, but whatever) we lost my dad's mother to cancer. Two years prior she took a fall down the stairs and never regained her ability to walk. She remained bed ridden until the day she passed away from cancer, and although it wasn't a "watching her wither" kind of experience, it was still hard to sit with this strong vibrant woman, knowing that things would never be the same. Late September 2006 my uncle committed suicide...and sometimes I still can't come to terms with it. Early October 2000 my aunt, who was married to the uncle who died in September, died at 27 from leukemia...in the hospital. At 11 years old, it was a harsh lesson. At such a young age, to lose such a young woman who was so caring, it was hard to accept and piece together. Then, in November of 2002 I lost my mom's parents four days apart. My grandmother 11/07/2002 and my grandfather 11/11/2002. This week I've thought about them so many times.
I am convinced that my grandmother is my Guardian Angel. I never really have said it to myself, I just will experience something and will think "Oh, Nana's watching over me"...it's just a feeling. I miss her. I am a lot like her with crafts and with personality, and even with fashion. So many times my mom says "Court...my mother would have worn that"...and I don't take it as a negative (that old ladies wore it), I take it as a compliment. My grandmother was very young at heart, and I feel that the styles she wore have come back into fashion in some way or another. So, I don't feel any shame in it. I talk like my grandmother too - and I'm dramatic like her. OH! And I'm clumsy like her. God...I miss her. I wonder what conversations we would have now...now that I'm older and can actually have a conversation (not that I couldn't at 13, but I was just more shy and reserved). I wonder what she would say to me. I wonder if she's proud of me. I wonder about everything!! I also wonder if my mom would be happier, and if my family would still be together. I went to my mom on Monday and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek because I know that the first thing she thought that morning was that her mom was taken from her 9 years ago on that day. She thinks about her all the time, and I know it makes her sad. I feel that my uncle may still be here if she was, and I feel that my surviving uncle and aunt would be a little bit more...sane if she were.
My grandfather was amazing, funny, and smart. He was absolutely brilliant, and sometimes I thought he was borderline genius. He was German, and straight from Germany in 1957. He was born in Ulm, Germany and his dad was an SS man for the notorious Hitler. His mother was making ends meet anyway she could. They finally just fled Germany in 1957, and came to America. I wish like hell that my grandfather had lived long enough that I could ask him a million and one questions. What kind of traditions he held onto, how to speak German, what life was like there, who he knew there, could we go one day? At the very end of his life, he was sitting with my mother right after my grandmother died, right before he went into a comatose state and passed away. He was speaking fluently in German, almost as if he were having a conversation. My mother leaned into him, and kept asking him what he was saying. She kept telling him "Dad, I can't understand a word you're saying, I don't know what you want". He finally, looked straight at my mother and said "Don't mess with me, Carey!", and turned his eyes elsewhere and continued his German tirade. To this day, my mother fully believes he was speaking with my Great Grandmother, that he was at the very end, and she was waiting for him.
I don't know...I just miss them...and I wanted to share that void. Writing always makes me feel better. Well, that's all for tonight.
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