Processing and babbling

I think I'm still processing.

Sometimes, it really sucks to be such a cerebral-type person. I wish that I were better at crafts or athletics ... so I could CHANNEL all this STUFF into that.

I want to punch things, throw things, scream ... but none of those are productive.

I did buy a needlepoint kit. Haven't had any luck really starting it.

I started a new blog ... but Nana's pickle/relish recipes on it.
I should take pictures of some of those recipe cards to go with the typed bits.

I should do a lot of things.

What do I really, really want to do?

Time travel.
Just go to Nana and Pop-pop's old house in my hometown.
Sit in their living room. Surrounded by covered windows, the russet-colored carpet, the moss-green telephone.

Of all the places I think of, their house is where I feel most at home. It was a huge part of my childhood. Even after they renovated their kitchen and added a dining room, the living room stayed nearly the same. The couch always facing the front wall. Pop-pop's chair next to that corner table, usually with an ashtray on it. The TV in the corner to the right of the fireplace. The draft coming through the cracks of the door to where the firewood was stored.

If I could bottle two scents from my childhood, to just open whenever needed, I think they'd be Nana and Pop-pop's house (with a small vial of the smell of their attic) and the pharmacy on Main Street in my hometown. It always smelled the same. And, even though I didn't go in there all the time, it was just a good smell. When I went in there a few years ago, it still smelled JUST THE SAME. And I was transported to being, oh, six? Seven? And walking in there with my dad and buying a doll or Tinkerbell perfume or paper dolls.

I hate that saying ... that you can never go home again. But, in a few months, really, once we finally get my mom moved up here, I won't really have ANY reason to go back to Canyonville.
My dad and other family are in different towns. JAvelin, who ran the natural food store, passed from cancer. Arnie, my choir teacher, passed away. They sold my home ward (congregation)'s building, so everyone meets at a different building in a different town.

...

It almost feels like my childhood is totally out of reach anymore.
And I don't feel ready to be an adult.

...
...
...

My Nana's favorite ice cream was Umpqua's Peach on the Beach.
Mostly because she liked saying the name.

I always associate Bugles chips and Diet Orange Slice soda with her.
"Do you want some orange?" She'd ask. I'd agree. She'd pour me some and have "just a squosh" for herself.

I don't even really care for Bugles chips. But sometimes, when I'm really missing her, I'll buy a bag. I'll eat a handful or two, then give them to the kids. It's not the same.
She also almost always had coffee candy around (which I still take as a guilty pleasure. I don't drink coffee, but I love coffee candy). Freedent gum is what she'd always have in her purse. I try to carry a pack around as well. Just the smell of it takes me back to riding in her car.

She'd get her hair done, a wet set, about every couple weeks. Usually on a Saturday morning. Sometimes, I'd tag along. Alice (the hairdresser downtown) would let me play with her huge, gorgeous dollhouses while Nana had her hair done.

Nana and Pop-pop, when he was alive, would go, nearly every day to Lynn's restaurant (or later, to the deli/cafe at Pioneer Supersave/Floyd's) and drink coffee and chat with everyone. One of the things about a small town is that you can do that. They'd be regulars there. People would know they could find them there.

When I interviewed for my first job, Alvie (my boss over at Shop Smart) looked at my application, looked back at me, then asked, "Are you related to Bruce and Jean (Pop-pop and Nana)?"
"Yes, they're my grandparents." "You can start tomorrow." "Okay."
As I carried people's groceries out to their car, and they found out that I was Bruce and Jean's granddaughter, Allanna (as opposed to any others running about ... this was the next town away, where I had my job), they'd gush about my grandfolks.

...

My mom's mom, Grandma Darlene, passed suddenly. And she lived in the big town, about a half-hour's drive away. I spent some time with her. But not as much. Since her husband sexually abused my mom and aunt. Mom was adamant that I was NEVER to be left alone with him. Since, by the time I was born, he was retired and around a lot, I usually spent a lot more time with Nana. She was one of my playmates when I was little.

I wish that I had more memories of Grandma Darlene.
I called her up, once, when one of our cats was giving birth. Grandma was cat-mad, like me. She talked me through being midwife to ... was it Mittens? No, must have been Jasmine/Jazzy-cat.
She collected tea cups. She gave me one, but it broke. Shattered. I've been upset about that ever since.
Her house was always about 70ºF year-round. In summertime, when I was a lanky colt of a seven-year-old, I'd go inside after being out in the 85/90º heat and nearly freeze. She had a bunch of Disney books, with accompanying cassettes. I'd sit and listen/read those.
One of the books she had, in a cardboard box full of toys for the grandkids to play with was "The Sweet Smell of Christmas," a scratch-and-sniff book. I made sure to buy my own copy when I found it as an adult. She got me started on lots of different books. Anne of Green Gables, The Cat Who... series, Magnifi-cat, ... She was a reader. Probably, partly, to escape her childhood ... which could have been much happier. She collected gnomes. Got a few signed by the sculptor. She and her husband took me once, to get the one she gave me signed. I lost my (cheapo) ring from the county fair in their car. She bought me a new ring at The Emporium (most of you wouldn't remember that store ... it's like Kohls ... a nice department store). It was an aquamarine heart with a little gold band (with hollow hearts on either side of the stone). I was confused why she'd (1) spend THAT much money and (2) why I'd get an aquamarine ... it's not my birthstone.

Later, I learned that my mom had another brother that only lived a few hours. His birthstone was aquamarine. Also, my youngest daughter shares his birthday. I know that Grandma had a hand in that. I never knew his birthdate until after Bubbles was a few years old (Thanks, Ancestry.com. That was good info!)

Also, Grandma Darlene was a very good pie-maker. I did NOT inherit that skill. I find pie dough to be finicky. I lack the patience to deal with it. Julie, my aunt, is a much better piemaker than I am. I should work harder. The smell of roasting turkey takes me back to Grandma Darlene's house for Thanksgivings and Christmas Day celebrations. She would always have (stale) strawberry wafer cookies in the cookie jar (which was shaped like a mushroom. It was part of a set of canisters on her kitchen counter). She and her husband were diabetic, so it was either stale wafers or sugar-free hand candies. Or diet soda. I think they also had popsicles around, though, too.

I found Archies comic books around her bedroom. I enjoy a good comic book.

It was such a shock when she passed. Mom and Julie took it pretty hard. They had only recently had a family meeting where they told their youngest brother (who has children ... two of them are girls) about what their stepfather (his father) did to them. Julie was sure that it was because they brought that to light that their mom died. My mom countered that, no, Grandma was relieved that it was out in the open.

Regardless, she passed in her sleep. None of us were expecting it.

I don't know if that made it easier or harder to deal with. Nana had dementia for years. She'd been given around a 2-4 year prognosis when she was diagnosed, if I recall correctly. That was ... at least five years ago. The last few years have been the hardest. It was tough to hear Nana ask why Pop-pop wasn't coming to visit her, why he'd left her. A couple years ago, Nana told me that she had only just realized that he'd died. Though, the next time I saw her, she wasn't aware of his passing.

How confusing and heart-breaking to have to relearn/re-realize these things.
And seeing someone go through this isn't anything of an enjoyable experience.

Even going to visit her earlier this month, KNOWING that this would probably be the last time ... that wasn't easy. Especially since we weren't to let on. I would have tried to get a whole family picture with Nana ... but I kept crying off and on. So I have a few pictures of the kids with her.

...

I grew up haivng three grandmothers. The other one was Grammy, my mom's stepmom. They lived down in California, so I only rarely saw them. Pat (that was her name) and I got along. She wrote to me more than I wrote back (I've never been a great one for writing letters. Email is more my thing. SO much faster and it doesn't matter if you're going to the post office or have stamps). She passed soon after Bruise and Bucket were born.

Grampy is remarried. I still have one grandfather alive (though, next time he catches pneumonia, will be the last, so they say). His wife is younger than my mom. She's very nice.
Shockingly, I was the first one of the family to send her a mother's day card. I think that cemented my favored status, ha ha. But she's really very nice. I will have her around for a long time, so I'm not totally a grand-orphan.

Yes, that's one thing that I worry about. Is it because I'm an only child?
I never thought that being an orphan would be a great experience. My mom is a huge source of security for me. Michael, too, of course.

But, without any siblings, I always figured that I'd end up dying alone. I figured that I'd never be an aunt (for some reason, when I thought that, apparently I never considered that I'd marry someone who wasn't an only child? Logic, that's a funny concept).

Doing family history has been a good thing. I actually have extended family (cousins and whatnot) up here. I have an extended cousin in my church ward (congregation). Our kids' doctor is that cousin's uncle (and a slightly closer relation). I have family here.

One of my friends who I used to Visit Teach is an extended cousin (to both Michael and me, funnily enough. She's a closer relative to Michael, for the record).

And there's the gospel ... so that even though I've lost my biological grandmothers, I know that I haven't really lost them. We'll do/finish their temple work ... and I will have them forever.

But, oh, I just really want them NOW.

I hate goodbyes. I really do.