I don’t remember the context in which I took this photo of my grandmother. Why she has her hands over her eyes like that. I think perhaps that she is tired. What were we talking about? I don’t remember now.
Today she has been gone one year. I didn’t remember the exact day (today) either. My mother reminded me. She says that it doesn’t feel like a year, doesn’t feel like she’s gone. It’s more like she’s away somewhere. She talks to Grammy.
I don’t talk to Grammy. I think about her. Her photo is the icon for my mother’s cell phone number so I see her face when my phone rings. I can still hear the sound of her voice in my head and some of the things she used to say, but we don’t speak now, like how my mother and she speak.
When I looked at this photo, the immediate flash of words revealed was “hide and seek.” A childlike way of being, that was my grandmother. Not so much in a happy childlike way, but in a way where she was the child and you needed to look out for her. And she was tiny. She got very tiny at the end of her life especially.
Hide and seek. Then I think that she’s just hiding from us now. And we are seeking… something.
I do seek. I do. I have been doing it for such a long time, consciously, and before that, not so much. I remember seeking in ways that I knew to be dead ends, false wisdom, let’s-make-believe sorts of ways. Charms and chants and crystals and aphorisms and spells and fervent hopes. Spirals of smoke. My efforts, they all rang so hollow, no matter how hard I tried. I just figured I wasn’t devoted enough. I wasn’t seeking as hard as I could.
Now before bed I read a Richard Dawkins’ book, called The God Delusion. I’ve been reading this book for a long time now, maybe more than half a year at least, and it probably doesn’t sound like the kind of book one should read before bed, that one should be reading poetry or something charming to make way for nice dreams, but in its way I find this atheist text comforting. I read the chapters slowly, often re-reading paragraphs because the thoughts can be quite dense and I realize I’m not comprehending the concepts even though I see the words on the page.
I am not a very logical thinker by nature so I appreciate the way my mind must stretch. It feels good to realize that for no matter how long I am on this earth, I have the unique ability to think, discern and wonder.
Hide and seek. I don’t think about where she is. I’m not ready to do that in a logical way. I am not quite so brave.
She is hidden to us now but someday all will be revealed, whether I understand it or not. Whether I am here to see it or not.
The love remains.
8 Comments
life as a cycle. family as a base. love as solid flexible denominator.
what a powerful post julie. it is always tough losing family members, and the memories that stay linger, and linger and they shouldn’t go away.
thanks for sharing. <3xxo.m
Hey Julie, I haven’t been by in a while, just been too busy. This is a beautifully written, honest post and I like the way you think of your gammy being hidden from you. My husband died a while ago and I like to think of him like this too. X
Wow, I’ve been missing my grandmother going on three years now and it’s like she is still around, but not, just like she’s hiding. Great analogy. This post is beautiful and insightful and thought provoking.
Thinking about heading out to San Francisco for the day on friday…..
S&hearts:
It took me till after midnight to work up the courage to read this, afraid it would break my heart, but it didn’t. For all the sadness and the time flying by – a year already, how can that be? – it didn’t break my heart. It made me feel hopeful – what an odd thing to say, I know, and I don’t know where that came from; it just popped out. Things are what they are and our understanding is not required – thank goodness.
xoxo
I miss my grandmas so so so much. They’re not dead but they’re too far away (Brazil). This picture is beautiful.
Thank you all for the comments here. Much love to you. xo
I enjoyed reading your words, getting to know a little of you behind the lens. I said yes, I know what she means when you said ‘My efforts, they all rang so hollow, no matter how hard I tried’ and somehow I keep thinking back to the Buddhist thought that ‘heaven is here’ and try to remember that each day.
Today, looking out on my ‘garden’, I thought to myself…’Mike would like this’ and yes, he would have. I do not think of him looking down on this, on me…but rather that in life, he would have enjoyed…
I, like you, do not ponder where he is, because a little of him is still here, with me…
Revisiting this post after Alli saw it and mentioned it to me today. It is so thoughtful and beautiful. Just wondered if you’d ever seen this set of photographs from Philip Toledano? Captivating and compelling!