My Grandmother died in February. One of the things that has been so strange about her death is that sometimes I forget that it’s happened. And I know that sounds so weird and maybe even insensitive but it’s true.
Like, I’ll have a few hours to kill on her side of town and think ‘I’ll go see Grandmom!’ and then I’ll remember.
Or when Hank had his end of the year program. See, he and his cousin Eli got a case of the big church giggles up on stage and I immediately thought ‘oh, I can’t wait to tell Grandmom about this. She is going to be so tickled.’
Or I think of a funny memory I want to remind her of and then, oh yeah, I can’t. Cousin’s Camp was hard without her this year. We were so lucky to have her healthy for as long as we did.
We took the kids to Greene Street Market this week. Greene Street is kind of the Pinterest version of the Farmer’s Market in town. It’s chock full of hipsters.
If the picture of us happily walking through the market buying fresh produce just flashed through your head just go on and let it go.
I mean, some people were happily doing that. My kids were too busy complaining about the oppressive MOTHER OF PEARL heat.
Stella was running from shade patch to shade patch, acting as if she’d melt if she stayed in the sun too long. And she was really selling this acting job. ‘Mommy, the heat….the heat…I’m going to splode from the heat!’
Look minions, we live in Alabama. This heat? It’s kind of our thing.
At the market we bought ice cream, cupcakes, lemonade, tea, bread, popsicles and bracelets. Nary a vegetable one came back with us. Whoops, our bad.
James waited in line for the Piper and Leaf tea. His tasted so good that I decided to try some too.
I took a different sample and…Well, I started crying. Like full scale, James patting me on the back, crying. It was ridiculous. I finally chocked out ‘that tea tastes just like my Grandmoms.’ And it did. It really did.
I felt awful for the guy working the booth. Poor man was just trying to sell his overpriced but oh, so delicious, tea and all the sudden a crazy woman starts crying at you.
It’s that grief.
It just sneaks up on you.