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My grandmother died last night. This wasn't a shock or a surprise. Her health has been on the decline, and she's been in hospice for the last month. She lived a long life, and in her final days she was surrounded by her three adult children.
My grandma was a kind woman. She wasn't perfect, but I always felt loved in her presence. She was a retired kindergarten teacher, and was still working when I was a kid. I have so many happy memories sitting at her kitchen table, and I'm going to carry those with me for the rest of my life. She was also proof that anyone who claims that you get more conservative as you get older is full of shit, because she certainly didn't.
I think it's interesting how the body processes grief sometimes. I don't know that I'll cry, but over the past month, knowing this was coming, I've felt a tension in my gut. Now that she's passed, instead of relief that tension is replaced by a sense of emptiness. That something is missing that should still be there. Something has been taken away, and I feel it.
Of course, as I wrote that, I immediately started crying... so I guess my body processes grief in pretty ordinary ways too.
I wanted to come up with something profound linking this to Beltane, which we sit in the middle of right now, but it just seemed hackneyed. Like I was trying to dig out some greater significance when the truth is death comes whenever it wants. The only predictable thing about it is that it's the end of all of our journeys. I hope that when I pass I'm so lucky to have lived such a long life with people that I love around me in my final days.
For the record, I will be fine. I just needed to get these words out while they were still in my head. I don't have some rousing conclusion or deep insight to tack on here at the end, just that gut feeling that something is missing.
Because it is.
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Yeah. As someone of Hispanic decent visiting up north that was fun trying to learn on the German names lol. And trying to watch all the yanks pronounce my last name!
Amazing how easily an ethnic name can trip you up, even if you think you’re ready for them. But Polish names seem to do it deliberately.
Or if you’re prepared for the wrong ethnicity. I knew an Indian kid named Tejas(Tay-jis) once. He lived in an area with a huge Hispanic influence. Literally everyone assumed it was Tay-has when they met him, even after he said it.
This was something I greatly appreciated with David Vincent, who MC’d Sakura-Con’s Closing Ceremonies this year. He made a point to meet with our cultural performers before the ceremonies to make sure he had the pronunciations correct.
One joy at Registration was people with a badge name of something like “Tigerfoxxx”. Your name would immediately be “Tiger Fox ecks ecks.” Every time.
I recall the time that David Gerrold was MCing a costume contest and was visited with so many unpronounceable character names (and NO phonetic breakdown) he finally gave up and started introducing people as “Fred. From the planet Fred”. No idea what the balance was between annoyed and amused on the part of the entries. 🙂