It was a whirlwind and I'm still twirling

Two weeks ago today I was out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean wearing my winter coat, hood tied tight around my head, watching the water split where the large ferry I was riding in cut through it. My mom and I were the only two people gutsy enough to brave the cool weather and occasional peaks at the sun to sit on the top deck of the ferry. Angela and my Dad were below deck, in cushy seats, sleeping off their sea sickness. But not my mom and me. We were watching the blue sky, smiling at each other, silently taking in the quiet nature all around us. It was quite a morning. It was peaceful. It was still even though we were moving. It was amazing.

And then everything came crashing down. The stillness of my soul turned to shards.

By that night my parents were on a plane back to Michigan. And then eight hours later, Angela and I were following. An unexpected trip that came too soon. Or not soon enough depending on how you look at things.

My grandmother, my mother's mother, hadn't been well for quite some time. Eighteen months ago she fell in her house and spent a night on the floor. Three surgeries, countless procedures, a lifetime supply of antibiotics and meds, it just became too much. Her body had managed so many years. Years of pain starting with a terrible automobile accident before she married my grandfather through replacement hips and arthritis that crippled her. Through it all though she never complained. Never. She was amazing.

I have so many stories. Stories I want to record. Stories I will record. But not right this moment. It's too hard. Yesterday, Monday, I sat down to write out some cards as I do every Monday. I have a small list of people who get them regularly. Grandma was tops on that list. As I went to the box of cards I've collected from trips to Hallmark (I might have a problem, they send me very large reward checks) I looked at the pile earmarked for her. Cards I didn't have the chance to send...

Then today, as I was walking to my car after work I felt the need to talk to someone. My sister was at work. Several friends I knew were busy. My parents were traveling. Until eighteen months ago Grandma would have been tops on that list as well. I can't remember how many nights I called her and talked all the way home from my job an hour away from my apartment. I loved it. I miss it. So much.

It's been a whirlwind. Real life doesn't stop and so I continue to work, grade papers, proctor state-wide tests for the little ones, try to create a screenwriting career, connect with friends, buy groceries, dust the living room. But through it all, I can't help but miss her. A picture in the dining room. Her name in my cell phone. The ring she gave me. The life she helped me create.

I hope the tears don't stop. I also hope the memories don't fade. I hope the shards don't dull. I don't want to forget. I don't want to be too far removed. Here, now, feeling it is only where I want to be.