I consider myself to be bad at gift-giving. It's one of the reasons Gabe and I switched birthdays. Years ago, to alleviate some of the stress of gift-giving, I started keeping a note in my phone of gift ideas. I add to it throughout the year whenever I see good gift or whenever a person mentions wanting/needing something. It's helped me a lot.
A few days ago I was going through the list and two names leapt out at me: Paw Paw, and Nana. We lost both of them this year.
I found myself just staring at my phone, sort of shocked and frozen. Then in a flash of heartstring snipping, I double tapped and deleted Nana's paragraph of ideas.
No, my heart said gently. Put it back. I shook my phone, selected Undo Typing, and was once again staring at "glass bird feeder things you stick in the ground, pink poinsettia, Target gift card, wind chimes, coloring book, Adopt a Cardinal (see screenshot 12/10/21)."
Suddenly the realization that I would never get to do the Adopt a Cardinal thing for her was really sad. She would've really liked that, I think, or at least thought it was weird and funny.
We'll never get to build a contraption that allows Paw Paw to play the piano without his leg, or give him music for his harmonica, or interesting colored pencils for coloring.
Nana and Paw Paw will never get to see if Gabe and I have kids, or if I publish the Fire Faery Story. Paw Paw always asked about my writing; Nana read the first chapter of Book 1 and said that "it wasn't really her thing, but she thought it was very good."
Gabe and I have three Christmas ornaments of Paw Paw's that he gave us a few years ago when he stopped having his own tree. We've put them up every year, but this year it felt different, of course. As we decorated, I started thinking about the Gift Ideas note and seeing Paw Paw's ornaments and realizing that this is the first Christmas Mom has ever had without her parents and it all just felt so sad. I started crying.
"I feel sad," I said, because, as with a toddler, Gabe and I have been working on my acknowledging and voicing my emotions.
I don't remember all that I said, but it really boiled down to "I'm sad that my grandparents aren't here anymore."
Gabe hugged me and I cried and after a couple of minutes we pulled apart and I was like, "What's weird?" because the vibe between us was really off, unusual.
"I don't know," Gabe said, confused and taken aback.
"No, something is weird with you," I said, watching him. "Your energy is weird."
"I don't..." Gabe seemed at a loss.
"I guess I don't really do this," I said. "I don't really...cry about things."
"You really don't," Gabe said, with the hopeful, nervous energy of a friend watching Hulk shrink back to his human form. "I guess I don't really know what to do."
I shrugged and kind of laughed. Me neither.
For a while I've been thinking about the idea of thinking your emotions versus feeling your emotions. I'm pretty sure blogging about it counts as "thinking," but being shocked by the gift ideas, deciding to keep them, and crying while decorating the tree...maybe that's feeling?
I'm sad. I miss hearing Paw Paw answer the phone with "Hey sweet girl!" I miss Nana telling me that I "look so prurty." They both always made such a point of telling me how much they loved me, and Gabe too.
It feels confusing/incomplete/truncated that they're gone, like getting to the end of a book and realizing the last page is torn out, like going to update my NaNo word count and the + button is gone, like driving to an old house and finding it bulldozed. A bewildered feeling of, "What, wait, I wasn't finished yet." How can they be gone? Forever?*
I haven't dealt with a close death in the family since Papa died when I was seven. I guess I'm learning how to grieve as an adult. I hear it comes in waves, stages.
I'm gonna keep their gift lists in my phone.
~ Stephanie
* I know, Heaven and everything. But it feels permanent right now in a way that is so alien.
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