I got some amazing news today. Throw your hat in the air and shout kind of news, run around the house squealing, tell everyone in sight kind of news.
(No, I am not pregnant.)
It was amazing news. I poked Nathan until he woke up – lazy bones was napping on the couch – and told him. I rang my parents, and spoke to my father and told him the great news. Mum wasn’t home.
I was so over the moon that I caught myself for a split second starting to dial the number for my grandmother.
And then I burst into tears because she is dead and I can’t ring and tell her. Suddenly I wasn’t so excited, I was just bone crushingly sad.
Death is hard. Death hits you at the strangest of times, when things are going well. You’ll be travelling along, and things will be just fucking perfect and then your brain will collapse in on itself and you’ll be left sobbing. Death is so final and I think that is the hardest part to live with.
I cried for an hour and then I rang my mother and we celebrated and cried together, because that is what you do.
Knowing that Nan would be excited and proud isn’t the same as ringing and speaking to her. Knowing that she would be cheering me on from the sidelines is nothing like sitting down and telling her about it. It’s just not the same.
Things are going well for me. They’re going really really well. I got another couple of businesses to sign on to Showcase Tasmania, I’ve got a few more interested and in the process of confirming and deciding and (the biggest thing I suspect) it’s finally Not Winter anymore.
I am happy. I am truly truly happy. And in the same breath, I am so terribly sad, because I am getting married in a month, my blog is doing well, things are happening for me and my grandmother is still too dead to share this with.
And that is the problem right now.
***
Ghosts and the possibility thereof aside, death is death. It’s final and I can’t change that.
I should hopefully be able to share my news with you in the next week or so. I am really excited about this, but you know, pass the tissues. I’ll cry and dance at the same time.
I am so happy for you, but at the same time so sad.
Can’t wait to hear your awesome news!
I totally know where you are coming from. I go to pick up the phone and call my dad to ask or tell him something all the time. Then i remember he’s gone 🙁 Like it hits you all over again, time and time again.
Can’t wait to hear your news!
So happy for you and can’t wait to hear this news. And that is a beautiful photo of the three of you.
Yeah, I still bookmark things in my mind to tell my mum (dead 13 years) and my dad (dead since April) and it catches you in the chest like a punch to the solar plexus, a great gulping sad feeling that takes forever to dredge yourself back up to the top of the pile to gasp fresh air again – while feeling like soggy, sad crap xxxx.
Our loved ones know, we’re just too human to hear them xxx (((hugs))).
That weekend I saw you? I came home on the Sunday and bawled my eyes out as my Dad wasn’t there to see me hand it in. Death Sucks, but its unfortunately part of life and we just have to hold onto the thought that they can see us and are proud of us.
Hugs & love BG Xx
The other day I was talking with my family and started talking about my Aunt as if we were about to see her too. Everyone just stopped and looked at me and I felt so stupid…but I shouldn’t. I miss her every day and so I feel I understand a little bit why today made you feel so sad and I’m so sorry love xx
I love that things are going so well for you at the moment.
HUG
Forget ghosts – your nan is right there in the same room as you smiling at you and laughing with you everytime you think of her she is *right* there. You just can’t see her. She’s there everytime your mind thinks about her or songs on the radio remind you of her, or you smell something that reminds you of her. *Right there*
I totally forgot to add – am *squeal* excited to know what’s up with the blog – and the good news etc – sounds fabulous!
Glad for your good news: My mum and dad both died a few years ago. There is nobody who sings the song of your life like your mother. To this day I find myself wishing I could phone her and tell her things about the children, things about my life – I had some good news today too and she would have been so pleased.
I never had a close relationship with my gran, but I imagine it would be a lot like a mum, but easier. Anyway, I am so sorry you are experiencing this weird and unsettling sense of loss, it does get easier, but it never totally goes away.
Hugs and stuff
My husbands’ father died very suddenly just a few weeks before our wedding.
No matter how much it comforted other people to say “Well, he’s here in spirit” the day just wasn’t the same.
My husband wanted his dad to see him married, to clap him on the back and get drunk and tell him how proud he was of him, and there was no substitute for that.
I’m sorry your grandmother is missing all these excitements, and I’m sorry you miss her so much.
X
When we lose someone special everything seems to have that happy/sad feeling. I do understand as i have lost someone very special recently. Looking forward to hearing your exciting news Xx
SQUEEEEEE! Between your marriage coming up (which I hope is fully and properly BLOGGED!) and your business and your managing with Amy and Isaac, you have lots and lots of people very excited for you, who care for you very much! I know it is not the same. And the saddest part is that she would have grown and developed as a person as well in this time, so aside from ‘she would be so happy for you,’ sometimes, you don’t know what she would have really said… so you truly do miss out not just on the connection but the advice.
Veronica, I’m happy to hear you have happy news, and I’m sad that you can’t pick up the phone and tell your gran. After my dad died, I phoned his cell phone about 10 times a day to hear his voice on his answering machine. I kept at it until the jerks at the phone company disconnected the line. I find myself about half way through dialing him up to talk about the most mundane things.
Sending happy thoughts and internet hugs your direction.
So glad things are going well for you. It’s ok to be moving on with your own life. Your nan went through precisely what you are once or twice too. She’s know how you feel – happy and sad – and she’ll be doing whatever she can, form wherever she is, to make it all so. X
Email me, damnit! The gmail address. Go on, you know you want to!
Love you V xxx
onomatopoeia
x
What Kel said.
I want to say that I’m so happy for you that things are going well. I want to make that bigger than the grief part but I know that grief is bigger and can consume all the happy bits.
So, I’m sending love – just love because I don’t want my words to confuse things.
Now I’m so curious I’m going to have to wash some dishes to get my mind off it!
Will send tissues….
Been reading your blog for some time now. Looking forward to hearing the happy news.
Your feelings are so beautiful. When we have a death of someone close to us the moments that are for celebrating are always tinged with a touch of sadness. I have to admit though, I do envy you, I envy the relationship you had with your Gran and more so I envy the relationship you have with your mother. My mother died when I was 7 (I am now 49) and there is a saying that a mothers death “is a loss that is forever” and it truely is BUT I still have lovely memories, not a lot but some. You have half a lifetimes worth – enjoy those memories. Now…. what is that exciting news. Jo
Crying over your post…and crying over all the comments. Death is death and you’re right…the memories sometimes don’t cut it – we yearn for the physical. Hang in there. Celebrate the good times. Sounds like you have some exciting ones ahead xxx
So glad to hear that you’ve got happiness in your life. And also feel for you not being able to share it with your grandmother. xx
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