Redheaded Jill

Grandpa Fish died seven years ago today. If our family was Korean we would gather and set a table of food and burn incense in his memory. We are not Korean. And we don’t have any memorial type traditions. So I think about him by myself.

In years past I would visit his graveside, have a good cry, and talk to him a little bit. This year I can’t do that. At least not today. This year I am babysitting for a friend for the whole weekend. I don’t think her four kids would enjoy a lady they hardly know taking them to a cemetery and having a good cry. So I will go on my own, tomorrow.

I don’t think Grandpa can hear me. I’ll go as far as to say I know he can’t hear me. But I will talk to him anyway. I will talk to him about the silo my dad and brothers made into a chicken coop and how my dog doesn’t mind the chickens wandering around the property at all. I will tell him thank you and I miss him. I will tell him that I hope he has a rocking chair and has been reunited with Grandma and their first baby. The one the doctors killed. The one he never got to hold, or even see. The one that scarred their hearts forever, but they never talked about it until he was on his death bed. I will wish I could hug him and kiss his rough cheek. I will tell him about Dad and Titus chopping down a dying tree in the yard, and how it knocked down the swings that Dad and Grandpa built for us 30 years ago. I will thank him for the home that I live in, and for being such a great man.

I will then spend some time in prayer. Thanking God for my Grandpa and asking that we be reunited someday. I will (hopefully) have a good long cry. My head will start to hurt, it always hurts when I cry. (I will also feel a sense of relief because I haven’t been able to cry in a month or more.)

Then I will probably go home and take a nap. Because that is the fastest cure for a headache. And I might even dream about Grandpa.

I am so grateful that I have had such amazing Grandparents. I am so grateful that I grew up close to them and have so many good memories. It is a major blessing. I want to say that it gets easier with time, and in a way it does. Unfortunately, the pain is never completely gone. And I can’t, in this moment, tell you if I am getting better at handling the loss or if I’m just stuck in a freeze state because I have felt numb for the last month or so. It’s like, I know what I SHOULD be feeling, and what I have felt in the past, but I’m currently in emotion limbo.