This past weekend I spent time in Brazoria, my home town. The place where I learned and grew and was loved. Going home always brings back good memories of family, friends, school, and church. Yes, there are those few negative things from the past, but for the most part, my childhood was filled with happy memories. A true blessing.
Many of those happy memories are of my grandmother, Nanny, as we called her. Her given name was Nellie Elizabeth. So beautiful. She passed away in 1994, a memory that is forever written on my heart. I loved her and still do.
People often say that “time heals all wounds”. I have found that to be false, for me anyway. Time does not make death easier. I think about her most days. Something she used to do that I found funny, the “programs” she used to watch, the fried chicken that she made better than anyone… ever… but mainly how she loved. And gave.
This weekend I took a walk to her grave. I go every time I visit my parents and every time it’s the same. Me telling her about my life. Me crying. Me asking her about heaven. Me crying. Me explaining the events of the past year. Me crying. Me asking her questions that I know she can’t answer about how she survived being a single Mom. Me walking away with a huge empty feeling because she’s not here.
If time truly “healed” then I’d think that 17 years would be an appropriate time to start feeling better. But it hasn’t. I still miss her and sometimes it hurts just as much as when I said goodbye next to her hospital bed in ’94.
I’m pretty sure that any kind of “death” stays with you, be it physical death, the death of your health, the death of your marriage, or the death of a friendship. I do think that “time heals” for those that were not immediately affected. But for those it’s happening to or close family and friends, it doesn’t.
Of course that’s just my opinion and my experience.