stories that shape us

One of the many stories that has shaped my life is being told that I remind people of my grandmother. Stylish clothing, pretty jewelery, decorating a home, baked goods and learning to make candies and other yummy treats, an appreciation for beauty, a bit of a feisty streak. These are just some of the things that I remember where someone made the connection between me and my grandma - "you're so much like your grandmother!" My mom told me once that I was my grandma's favorite grandchild because my grandma herself identified with me. I cannot put into words the pride that would come with such comments; I knew this was high praise; that there was a goodness in my grandma that penetrated deep. To be told that people see her in me meant - and means - a lot.

Now that she is gone, I'm left wondering if she really knew that. We weren't close in the sense that we talked frequently or spent a lot of time together, especially since I moved away almost two years ago. We talked regularly, but maybe every couple months or so. It was more that I saw us, as Anne of Green Gables would say, as kindred spirits; so similar in so many ways. Did she know how proud I was to take after her, to see beauty where others saw plainness, to love people and desire to share deeply in their lives? It really aches to wonder. It aches to think of how she never saw my home here and got to appreciate the paint colors I chose or the kitchen we pretty much redesigned. Even more so, she'll never know my children. She got to meet 5 great-grandchildren before she left this earth. But not mine. Regrets.

I'm feeling like a pretty bad counselor, because I can't seem to live out some of the things I remember telling clients this past year: give it time, let the roller coaster emotions come, let yourself mourn, it's normal to feel a little crazy, it's normal for moods to change quickly, it's normal to feel easily irritable... I'm completely at a loss as to how to deal with this! The service was last week, and while before the service I thought I was doing pretty well, now I am not so sure. It was so real and so final and so absolute. And I'd do anything to rewind the summer and have one last opportunity to see my grandma. And it hurts so badly. And I'm really trying to keep going to work and keep going to classes and keep being social with my friends and keep supporting my family and keep praying and seeking God's comfort. But it's all really hard. And then I tell myself I am overreacting; it was "only" my grandma (ouch - that seems terrible to think, let alone type). What the heck??? I am going crazy.