L...is for the way you look at me...

As my away message currently reads...I am taking stroll down memory lane...

August 21, 1991. I was 5 years old at this time...almost 6 actually. This was the day that I experienced death for the first time in my life. This was the day my grandmother (known as gramma) died. I won't pretend that I truly understood what happened that day, I was too young. I also won't pretend that I remember every second in vivid detail...it was almost 13 years ago...but there are three events that stand out as clearly in my mind today as the movie I saw last week. Maybe it's because those events that I remember are like a movie. I sat there, floating in my child naivete, just sort of watching, not understanding the finality of it. The first thing I remember from this day is watching 2 paramedics carry a long black bag past me out of the room my gramma had been inhabiting. Somewhere, in my mind, I knew that it was her in there, and that I would never see her again, but that part didn't get the voice it deserved. I didn't really feel the pain of everything until I saw my cousin Jason screaming and sobbing with his head against a wall. That was the second thing I remember about this day...watching Jason sob and cry as if his entire world had been destroyed. And it had been. A lot of people loved and needed gramma and when she left they felt desolate and alone in a way they'd never experienced before. But my world wasn't shaken. I cried and sobbed, but it was more in imitation of the others. At that age, I just couldn't feel her death the way others did, but I felt as though I should, and so I put up a front.

The third and final event I remember of this day was watching my uncle Davis tell my grandpa that gramma had left us. Grandpa had been sent to the store to get gramma's medication, because my aunts and uncles knew that he wouldn't leave her side and she wouldn't leave him while he was there. And she had to go. So they sent him to the store. When he came home, my uncle Davis walked across the stone driveway to meet my grandpa half way to the house. Eldest son breaks the bad news...tradition. Uncle Davis was standing a little bit apart from my grandpa, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying from the lanai, I knew when grandpa finally comprehended what had happened. His entire body slumped. He didn't shake like Jason had, like his world had been rocked, he slumped like he didn't have the necessary parts to stand up anymore. It was literally like a part of his body and being had been ripped from him. And it was. My grandparents were together for over 50 years. They had 10 children and over 30 grandchildren together. They were no longer seperate people, they were the embodiment of the word "we". It's often said that at the end of the day, sometimes all you have left is yourself. Grandpa didn't even have that anymore. He was so thoroughly tied to her and she to him that without each other they would cease to be themselves.

The sun was shining that day, in fact, it was beautiful out and oddly cool for mid August. In stories, when something so tragic happens, the weather reflects the tragedy, it's gloomy, depressing and sad. It's never that way in life. The sun, moon or stars always shine. Why? Is it like salt in the wounds? No. It's a promise of tomorrow. Of a day after love lost. Because even when you don't have yourself or your love anymore, there is always tomorrow. Whether you want it or not, there is always tomorrow.

I've often wondered if my grandpa knew why my aunts and uncles made him go to the store that day. I've come to the conclusion that yes, he did. He had to. He knew that gramma had to go, and that she never could while he was present. Gramma would hold on forever, to keep him from the pain of seeing her take her last breath.

My grandparents had the most perfect love I can imagine. I won't pretend for an instant that they never fought, or that their lives were perfect. But at the end of it all, even when they were ripped apart and no longer had even themselves to rely on, they still had their love. Even though grandpa wanted nothing more than for gramma to live and even though gramma wanted nothing more than for grandpa to be there when she left, each put aside their own wants and needs for each other.

I don't remember August 22 1991, I wish I did. But maybe it's good that I don't. I like to think that grandpa woke up the next morning slightly before sunrise, the way he always did, made himself a cup of coffee with just a little bit of milk and watched the hummingbirds and bluejays feed in the huge oak tree by the lanai, the way he always did. Why do I like to think this? Because this was the first day of my grandpa's life, a life he would have to face alone, despite our huge family, comforted only by memories and a love that's stronger than I can imagine. I like to think that he started his life the same way he ended it, on September 2 2000. For that day, just a few hours before he would find his love again, he sat on that same lanai and watched a thunderstorm roll in and out, the way they do only in the mountains in central Pennsylvania. And on that day, just after the remnants of the storm moved east...the hummingbirds and bluejays came back.