The passing

February 25 I decided to take the boys to Trader Joe’s for a shopping trip. Loading them in and out of the car, walking around the store, trying to keep my mind on the ingredients I will need for dinner, kept all other thoughts from my mind. At the end of the trip I was getting Sebastian into the car and my phone vibrated. I pulled it out and saw “so sorry grandma is gone”.
How do you prepare for that moment? There isn’t time to feel so sad, or break down, or take it easy. I was in a parking lot with the boys and groceries in the car. Someone had to drive home. Someone had to take care of the boys. And it was me.
I have her purse and her wallet. Both are old and I am sure will never used again accept as playthings for the kids. But I have them. I picture them in her daily life. Her carrying the purse as we make our way to lunch. Her pulling out her wallet to make payments here and there. They are simple things. Very plain. And they are the only purse and wallet I have ever seen her have. And still, almost a month later, I can’t look at them. They are in my bedroom in a canvas back she also had. But I don’t want to look at them. They make me sad. She won’t be using them anymore. She isn’t here anymore. They aren’t mine and they aren’t hers. There is a ghost about them. They are empty and I remember them full. I want them, but I cannot look at them.

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