Viola James Fairfax

What a weekend. My precious grandmother went home on Thursday last week, I cried, a little. It hadn't sunk in, it still hasn't, how can it? Knowing you wont see someone again until you die, (which hopefully for me means not for a long LONG time), probably takes some getting used to. I don’t think this is an immediate transition that can be grappled with and put to rest in a few easy days. I'm dejected. I came from her, I am her, she is me, and therefore part of me is gone. Where I got these eyebrows, this nose, this inexplicable need to laugh at what appears to be nothing, this deep faith in a Heavenly Father, and this thirst for life’s little nuances that I always feel elude me. All back to the universe. *deep sigh*. I loved her, I slept in the same bed with her, waking her up all hours with uncontrolled legs and elbows protruding in to her space, I spent countless hours communing with her.
It's such a blessing to know that I will see her again, such a heroes welcome I know she had and will want to share with me when I get there. Grief is this choking sensation, a feeling that something just settled into your throat so you can’t breathe, and something just gripped your chest so you're heart wont beat properly. I think this is what being attacked by an octopus from the inside would feel like... less inky, but same general feeling. I feel the guilt of not spending enough time, throwing away and not appreciating my past, MY past. In the end, her past caught up with her, so many loved ones, so much heartfelt warmness surrounded her, and it glowed from within her. We all radiated on each other. If the end of my life could be anything akin to this, I will know that I have not only made it, but done it right.
She spent her childhood in Louisiana picking cotton. LOTS OF COTTON. That's what everybody on my dad’s side of the family did up until my dad, the oldest of three, was born. He was the first of the new generation, and the first born here in Houston. There were better opportunities for my grandparents, and therefore my dad. She would tell me about how they would do nothing all day but pick. It was hard work, and it built a sturdy woman. As she lay in her bed, I looked down at her, and my gaze stopped at her belly. I pondered how the life that came from that belly, after many years, and with no consideration on her part, led to my life. It's so weird to watch friends now getting pregnant and having babies, when I think about how it's all so circular. Each generation discovers it, and takes it as their own, not thinking on all those before them that did the exact same thing.
My grandmother ran away with my grandfather. She said he was leaving, her dad forbade her to, but she packed up and left anyway. GUTSY, I know! lol. My grandpa eventually sent a letter of apology and explanation to my greatgrandad, but I don't think it ever smoothed things over for them. How hilarious it is to ponder on how that young woman in love hopped on a train to Houston, leaving behind literally the entire family and life she knew, just to be with my grandpa! I laugh so hard about this, and realize there is truly nothing new under the sun, expect for the lives people bring into it. It's like an old play that just keeps replacing its cast members, new people, same shenanigans.lol.
She said over and over again how thankful she was, her foot went gangrenous, she was thankful; her leg got amputated; she was thankful; she got diagnosed with stage 4 intestinal cancer; she still praised; she lost her colon and was on a feeding tube for nearly a year; she lifted her hands for every new breath she drew, all the way until she didn't have breath anymore. What a remarkable woman!
Life goes on, people go on, the world goes on, somewhere in the universe a star is dying and we won’t know until hundreds of years from now, nothing has or will change... Except for on this small little isolated island that I occupy, my small insignificant corner of this universe. Here, it will never be the same.