Things

What do I want? What things do I want to remind me of my Grandmother? How do I know what I want? In some ways, I already have what I want; I know that she knows I was there when she was dying. I know she knows I love her, and I know she loved me. These things I know. I will never lose these things. I am not sure if the things I want are possible.

I want to bottle the smell of the house at 1120 Perry St. Maybe it could become a candle. Then I can smell it whenever I want. I want to hear Grandma laugh. She was so quiet, and making her laugh always brought out her smile, and maybe an entry into conversation. You might never know when something might spark a comment or memory from her. I want to see her make that little step skip, dance she used to do when she was feeling especially good. Or the face she would make when you were looking particularly dressed up, or ridiculous. Both inspired a look of delight that would light up her entire face. She might even say “Hey, Hey Farmer Gray.” I can never have these things. Material possessions seem so meaningless in light of this reality.

I know there are things I want, but it is so hard to think about. I want the house to be as it is, with my Grandmother to welcome me home every time. I know I cannot have that, I know that chapter of my life is over. I am not ready to face it. I am thinking about it, but I want to move slowly. I am not in a hurry. Getting used to the idea that she is gone is not something I want to do.