Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Bittersweet Simple Pleasures
As the girls quietly colored in the backseat on the way home from gymnastics, I drew up my shoulders, bringing the scarf as close to me as humanly possible, soaking in my grandmother's presence, and feeling grateful that I possess tangible items that she once donned herself. I have also, this hat, that she wore during some of her last days when her head was completely bald, and she wanted to forgo her wig for something easier. On chilly evenings, I slip on her house shoes, comfortable blue and khaki slippers that she only was able to wear once or twice before she was bedridden. As I pad around the house, I think about the walk of her life and how I aspire to take some of the same paths that she traveled as well.
While I love having these things of hers to snuggle with, to keep me warm, and while it truly is a simple pleasure to remember her and all she was, it is still bittersweet. For as much as I love her hat, her scarf, the rings that she passed down to me, I love her more. I yearn for her presence, for her sweet breath upon my neck, for her tender hands to caress my back and ease my burdens. I long for the smell of her house, the sound of her voice, her arms, which no matter how frail they became physically, always had the strength to empower me, to uphold me, to support me. In essence, I simply want her, but must make do with her earthly things until the glorious day when we are reunited again.
I'm linking up with Dayle at Simple Pleasures.