When something big happens, you think back to the last time things were “normal.” I’ve done this many, many times. So many times that, when it happened this time, I knew the drill. I knew the script that I would follow afterwards, and what I must do.
First, “normal.” That was when I had finished writing my last post on this blog. I was on Facebook, ready to share it. I was pleased. Our family members and friends would appreciate what I had to say. Then the phone rang. It was Rob’s parents. Still nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, Rob started saying, “S***, s***, s***.”
That was where “normal” ended.
I didn’t want this to become our reality. I was planning on visiting Rob’s parents up north, bringing our motor home, and spending Mother’s day with them. Now, we will spend Mother’s day in our motor home, with my father-in-law, but his mother will be watching us from above.
This is our reality.
I know that you get used to reality. No matter what happens, it eventually becomes “normal” to you, and life goes on. And I’ve been supporting my loved ones as they realize this.
The first day, I tended the house, fed them, and just listened, as they began to grasp what had happened. When my brother-in-law wondered how we would get used to this, Rob said, “I know we will, because I’ve seen her (meaning my) family do it.”
Then, today, I found that they needed me less. That they spoke of the future, of fun things they would do. It’s OK to have fun, to discover yourself. It’s not disloyal.
Life goes on.
In times like this, we realize that we really do, deep down, believe in an afterlife. Whatever it is, we know it must be true.
And, seeing pictures of Mom as a young child–seeing the Bean’s eyes–we know that the next generation brings immortality for you.
So, farewell Nana. We’re glad to have known you, and very glad that you were able to know your first grandchild.