My grandma, who taught me how to crochet, died.
I don't know what more to say than that.
Blogging seems so weird now, because it all started because of her, really, and I can't seem to start a blog post without thinking of that, and then I derail because all I can think to write is, my grandma isn't here any more, and I miss her, even though we were only close when she was teaching me how to crochet.
How sad is that? I think that's what gets me the most. That side of the family doesn't really get along, and I can't remember a Christmas or Thanksgiving that didn't involve yelling or fighting, so I stayed away as much as possible to avoid all the bullshit fights that started over nothing. Now I can't go back.
We didn't even have a funeral. Probably because everyone would fight. I keep waiting for the release I get from saying my final goodbye, and I'm never going to get that. So then now, three weeks later, when I'm on the verge of tears from even thinking about it, I feel silly. Like, I shouldn't be crying over a woman who I wasn't really as close with as I would have liked to been, but I still miss her, and I think people won't understand why I'm upset.
Later, I'll talk about my sweater. I just need this right now.
1 comments:
I lost my little grandmother last year, and she crocheted, too, although I never saw any of her work.
It's okay to grieve, because she was yours, even though you barely knew her. She was your own grandmother. I'm so glad you learned to crochet from her, what a blessing.
ambar
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