one year later

I finally found out today where my Grandmother is buried. Well, she's not really buried. She was cremated. I finally found out today where her ashes were spread. A lovely little rose garden at an Episcopalian church in Sierra Madre. There's a plaque with her name on it.

Monday is my birthday. Monday also marks one year since she died. I thought I'd dealt with it. The surprise at hearing that she was dead. The animosity between the families - who are still not speaking. The guilt. I felt like I should have done something, made more of an effort at the end. From what I heard, she wasn't completely herself, but I still felt like I failed her.

I chose to visit today instead of Monday, to avoid the family. Not only is there animosity between us, but there has been a great silence stretching out from the event of my Grandmother's death. Such a silence that I had to find out from a third party where to find her.

Sitting in the rose garden, reading her name and touching the plaque, touching the flowers and leaves.... At first, I felt a tremendous sense of loss. Not for myself - I've overcome the guilt. But for her.

My Grandmother was always waiting to die. Most of her life - at the very least the parts of it that I was around for - she was waiting to die. Her life had never gone according to her wishes. Her husband never really loved her and was terribly abusive. Her second son died when he was only 10 days old. Even as a child she had lost siblings; as an adult, she lost a brother to Alzheimer's. She always lived in her what-if fantasies, and reality was quite a shock for her. The first time she had cancer she said she wasn't going to treat it. My mom forbade her to see us children. The cancer was treatable, survivable. But to give up that easily - my mom didn't want us to be poisoned by that.

I felt such a sense of loss that she was never able to see the blessings in her life. Life is as good as you make it, but she couldn't make it. All she saw was the blight, the fatigue, the loss and the disappointment. She lived with thinly veiled bitterness and hopelessness.

I prayed quite a bit in that little rose garden today. I prayed that I might never allow myself to be so fatalistic. I prayed that God might always help me see the good in my life, especially when I feel I am struggling.

I prayed also that God may give her peace. She had never known it in life, please God let her know it now.