a death in the family..

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Sorry for not being around lately.. more of a general statement than an apology because I know no-one really cares if I’m around lol! .. but my grandmother died. I don’t know if anyone remembers my previous post about my dad’s mother, and how we hadn’t been in touch in years due to my dad and her having a fall out, and how she got sick within the last 7 months and wanted us to reconnect. My Dad had been in contact with her slightly longer, but we sort of hadn’t been mentioned since she got her bad news.. We have reconnected, shared pictures, memories, talked about where my sister and I had got to in our lives since she was out of them most of the time, she talked about what beautiful girls we’d become, easily the prettiest people in the family, which was a lovely thing for her to say, as she wasn’t the kindest of people with words lol! .. we exchanged Christmas presents and just generally started to love each other again. And then on the 7th of May, my mum phoned me at 11.30am to tell me that my Granny had died, at 1.30 in the morning, in her sleep, and that the funeral would be held on Wednesday the 9th. Bit of a blow to be honest. I’m sort of stuck in a weird place about it all. I didn’t cry.. there was no emotion due to my lack of really knowing the woman, since we’d been apart most of my adult life.. I’m 25 and hadn’t seen her since I was 12 or younger! I just pottered about on Monday and Tuesday like normal. Informed my boss that I had a funeral to go to on Wednesday and would only be in in the morning until lunch time. I went and bought new black clothes, and made the odd little joke about wondering whether Granny would like what I was wearing etc. Then the funeral. We joked on the way to the funeral, my sister and I, not really knowing what to say or do. Everyone else knew her, always had done, and were upset.. and we weren’t. and we felt bad for it. The service went on, and it was emotional.. but still no tears. And it wasn’t until the Priest started talking about my Granny, about her work within the church, about her community spirit, about her sense of humour that me and my dad both share, that a tear fell from my eye. A tear fell for the Granny I was robbed of. From the side of my family I never really connected with. For the memories of her that were too distant to try and recall. For the recent memories. And the missing ones in between. For this woman, who was my heritage – and who was known better by her neighbours and the local Priest, than by her own Grand-daughter.. that’s when I cried. Many will judge me and tell me I should have been in contact all those years – and I ask you not to. Because the fall-out between her and my dad was so severe, and the woman has such an immense temper and un-kind way with words, that we were almost terrified of her, my sister and I. And we were very close to our dad and felt like he knew what was best for us. Is guilt now is incredible. For his mother, for our grandmother, for the lost years. But I was only young when the rift occurred, and by the time I was older I didn’t know any different. I had a Grandmother on my mum’s side. A grandmother on my Dad’s side who passed away when I was 14. And had never had a Grandfather on my Dad’s side, because my recently deceased Grandmother’s husband died 2 years before I was born. I didn’t know anything other than that we didn’t speak to her. and that’s the way it was. But my Mum’s mum, my grandmother, and her 2 brothers came to the funeral. To show their support to my Dad.. which I thought was beautiful. Especially considering if my Dad didn’t even speak to his mum until 7 months ago, they definitely hadn’t seen her in years, yet they still came. It meant a lot. The point basically comes down to, that I’m grieving.. and I don’t even know what I’m grieving for.. and it’s very hard. I’m grieving for memories, for lost time.. but I’m not grieving for a person. As I didn’t really know or remember her.