I realized that people who are out during the week are much nicer than the weekend warriors. I made a couple friends today during my travels. The cashier at the Hallmark Store (Great new Yankee candle scents out!), a woman in line at Starbucks, and the nicest woman at Trader Joe's who took me under her wing like I was her daughter and helped me pick out cheeses that you serve with crackers. haha. I felt clueless as I stared at the shelves of cheese for about 5 minutes. I watched each cheese purchaser very intently, but was still at a loss. Who knew there were so many types of cheese! This lady was so nice. She was probably around the same age as my mom and showed me the best kinds for the cheapest price. She was in the checkout next to me and I wanted to talk to her again... I thought I might scare her though... that is a little too "stalker-ish".
After my food chores, I had to swing by my sisters to pick up decorations for tomorrow. (Side note, Maddy's hair is getting SO long. Mostly long in the back- business up front- party in the back haha) She has passed St. Patty's down to me, so I was appreciative of anything green she could donate. I took a route to my sister's house that I would usually never take. The route cuts right through Winchester, which is where my grandparents lived. I thought about driving by their old house, but remembered hearing my Dad comment that the new owners had recently ripped down the front porch. I couldn't handle seeing that, so I decided not to drive by. Around the same time I was contemplating this, I was nearing the cemetery in which my Grandfather (Papa) is buried. For some reason, I just pulled in. I've only been there a few times, yet I was able to pull my car up to the exact spot to walk over to where he was buried.
Seeing the tombstone (tombstone or headstone> hmm) is always difficult for me, mainly because my grandmother's name is on it and she is still alive. That freaks me out. Usually a death related panic attack ensues within 5 minutes of the visit, but today I seemed to be alright. I looked around at the tombstones near Papa's and was sicked to see litter. There was an empty pill container half in the ground at the plot next to his. I don't understand how people can be so thoughtless, so selfish, to think they can throw their trash at the place where someone else has buried their loved ones. Anyway. In my mind, I kept picturing my grandmother and the look on her face the few times I have brought her there to see him. It breaks my heart. I can hear her talking to him and kissing her hand and then placing it on top of the headstone. She always tells him she will be seeing him soon... which makes me want to both chuckle and cry. Chuckle because she has been saying this since he died in 1992. She told us we could just have 1992 engraved next to her name as well... but, here she is today, with more energy than me! My trip to visit Papa was unplanned, but it made me wish that I had brought him something. Some plots around his had flowers or other reminders from people that loved them. I went to my car and got a tulip out of the bunch I had bought at Trader Joes and laid it on the ledge of his headstone. It wasn't much, but it was something that would show people that walked by that someone that loved the person there had been by to visit. I can't wait to tell my grandmother I went by, I know it will mean the world to her.
St. Patrick's Day always reminds me of my grandparents. When we were little we would go to their house in Winchester to celebrate. I was usually dressed in the most ridiculous attire I could find. I had on every different shade of green... there was no matching or planning, just like a shamrock exploded on me. Here is an example... a kelly green basketball shirt under a "tourquise" sweater... oh and with a beaded pocketbook on my head. I was a freak...
Anyway... I remember watching my Dad and Uncle drink green beer and being jealous, so Mamae would put green food coloring in my ginger ale. At some point in the festivities we would also take time to sing "When Irish Eyes are Smiling". This was, and still is, one of my favorite songs. It is comforting to me because it reminds me of when I was little. Papa had a great voice, at least in my memory! It was very deep, yet very gentle. One year my father borrowed someone "video cassette recorder" (as he filmed himself and tried to explain the concept of the video camera). That year we recorded a bunch of us singing together. It looked like a scene out of movie... one where it flashes back to a character's memory of something in the old days... We were lined up in the living room, arms linked around each other's shoulders or waists, swaying back and forth. I was wedged in between Papa and Mamae with my arms wrapped around Mamae's waist. I don't think I was really singing the right words, but it didn't matter because you can only really hear Papa... and at times my Dad, unfortunately. haha. There were two items I requested from Mamae when she was trying to delegate her possessions from her house. Out of everything I wanted a little clock and a wind up ceramic leprechaun. The clock was always placed next to Papa's chair. At the top of each hour it wound make a ding-dong noise that I can still here vividly in my head. It is a sound I associate with their home. The ceramic leprechaun plays when "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" and we would wind it up all the time and listen to it.
I wanted to put a picture of Papa on here, but I realized I don't have any here. They are all in photo albums and most of them at my parents house. I feel so ashamed of that... it is on my to-do list for this weekend... I did find one picture of him, but it doesn't really represent his character... But, for right now it's all I've got... Tomorrow, when Irish Eyes are Smiling comes on, I know I will think of him... I just wish he could be here to see how his family has grown and how much he missed... He was the best.
No comments:
Post a Comment