Grimm Memories

I have sat looking at this text box for almost 2 months debating how to start this blog, my story, the journey... So where better to start then the beginning right?

I was the youngest daughter born in early spring to my parents. Even when I was little I caused their grey hairs. See it was just a battle for me and my sister to be even brought into this world. My parents had trouble getting pregnant and had many miscarries, and even had a still born. My oldest sister that I really don't tell people I had. Well back then medication to get pregnant was still not down to a T but they tried it anyway and my big sis came into the world in 1984. My parents tried several more times but no such luck, so they finally gave up and put it in gods hands and stopped the drugs and contraception... In 1988 I came into the world with out medication's help. God wanted me here for a reason which always had me thinking if my oldest sister did live would my parents have tried for a 3rd? Would I still be here now, and it hasn't hit me till recently God put me here for whatever reason he wanted me here. I have a reason for existence and I'm just trying to find it...

Happiness didn't last long for my parents when I came into the picture. Six months later my Dad's Father passed away. I only had one grandpa sicnc my mother's parents died when she was 17. I didn't even get a chance to know him. But the real said thing is with all these memories everyone tells me of him holding me, rocking me to sleep, and playing with I don't remember. The only thing I remember is his funeral. Weird right? But I remember it it's blurry like it was a dream and I thought it was for the longest time. I never old my parents this till recent years which almost brought my father to tears that my only memory was his funeral. as soon as I described the place where I was in the dream, he knew it wasn't a dream. I wish I had a happier memory but I don't and I can't change that. I still cry when I see him in home movies and pictures, mostly cause I never got to know my grandfather or really have one.
despite this i still had the rest of my father's family... I grew up Polish Roman Catholic, not familar? Well it's pretty much like the stereotype of Roman Catholic Italians. So we were very family oriented and loved our ethnic foods! I was Baptized in the church and have God parents who are still in my like today. I prayed every night, when to church 8:15 am every Sunday, did Sunday school. But it wasn't till after my first Communion did death start to takes it tole. Death always seemed to hang around my family, and paid a lot of unwanted visits. See I hated grandparents day at school. for one we lived 2 hours away from them since my Dad got laid off and we had to move. So they couldn't make the trip ad I was always the odd kid out. I always pleaded to skip school that day but mom never let me. It wasn't till my grandmother's dead did i really hate it and grow envious and hated it. Everyone showing their gradnparents the pictures they drew, eating lunch with them, and I just sat in the corner like I was cancer. Then grandma died,I think that's when I started to question God.

See when your a kid you sit in church and listen to God's words and feel so fulfilled. You know god's upstairs and the Devil is below and he was bad. You wanted to be good and hang with the angels. After you experience death for the first time you start to question all of that. I'd just got home from yet another day of second grade, and we'd had art so I was excited to show mom my masterpiece. I jumped off the bus and raced my sister up the driveway and we came home to find mom a little distressed. She told us to pack our things because we were going to see grandma. There was something in her voice though...We arrived at a hospital, and still a bit confused I followed my parents and sister clutching my yellow stuffed pony. They led us to a room where a frail woman laid hooked up to numerous beeping machines and tubes. Who was this? This couldn't be my grandmother. My grandma was upbeat, smiling, and strong. My last memory of my invincible grandmother was of her lying dying in a hospital bed. After the funeral we went to the house to drop off my great aunt. I ran inside hoping grandma was there, and not 6 feet underground. She wasn't - the house was silent and was different somehow. There I was, 6 years old, and that's when it smacked me in the face. I knew what death was.Then I returned to school, and my parents tried to go on like nothing happened. But I was still struggling with this concept 'passed away.' Grandma had died a month before Thanksgiving & Christmas.

Usually for thanksgiving or Christmas you go to your grandmother's house, am I right? Well, my grandmother's house is a cemetery now. My favorite holiday Thanksgiving would never be the same again. The food never tasted the same and her seat at the table stayed empty... and more and more spaces were starting to appear...When you first lose someone you lose them in pieces, not as a whole. First their smell starts to fade, then the sound of their voice goes silent, then their face starts to disappear. I struggled with this for many years, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't control it.




The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the hornof my salvation, my stronghold. (Psalm 18:2 )