Picking Through Bones...

Otherwise known as Surviving the Tempest...

As written about in Too Many Shoes, and a couple of other posts this year as well, I lost my very last grandparent, my Grandma S., this past March.  She wasn't cuddly, she even made me crazy at times, but she was my grandma, and I loved her.  She was 93, and taught me more than she ever knew. 

This past Thanksgiving was our family's first major holiday without her.  

On Thursday morning, my mom  handed me a thick pile of stapled spreadsheets.  Look through this, Jen, and see if there's anything you want.

The previous Sunday her siblings had split up Grandma's estate, and taken what they wanted from the house.  What remained would be sold to the public, after a sale the day after Thanksgiving for the folks in my familial generation. 

I couldn't look at the list of items that remained in Grandma's house.  My eyes grew wet, and my voice choked, This is really hard for me, I can't imagine how it much be for the two of you.  I was looking at my mother and my Auntie M.  Uncle J., M.'s husband, took me in his arms and I cried, for lots of reasons.  Not having Grandma on Thanksgiving, the change in our family dynamics, and the breakup of the only home I'd ever known Grandma to live in.  I couldn't imagine it any other way than the way I knew it to be... stuffed to the brim with incredible pieces of furniture, china, crystal, silver, and all things exquisite.  (Of course, there were always too many newspapers, magazines, and pieces of mail around as well!)

I couldn't look at that list, and I didn't.  The next morning, I worked off my Thanksgiving meal by running eight-miles in a loop around my grandmother's neighborhood a couple of times.  My aunt, uncle, and cousins (another aunt-- Mom is one of seven) had been staying in the house, and I brought my cosmetic bag with me in order to shower and get fresh after the run, rather than driving back up to Auntie M.'s.  I got to the house just before 8:30, parked at the top of the driveway, affixed my bottle of water to the ground next to the car, and took off, running.  I had a great experience that day, listening to my music, and going up and down the fairly gentle hills.  The ones that weren't so gentle, I dug deep, and got 'em done.  Just like always.

I felt strong.

I could've run farther. 

I didn't, though, opting to go inside, get clean and lovely, and spend time with my fantastic cousins and their parents.  They showed me things that they thought I would like, and they were right, I did.  I came away that day with the following items:

1.  The white wax figure of the Madonna and Child, in a hurricane glass lantern, that stood vigil over the coffee table in the family room.  That figure, for me, is iconic when I think of Grandma's house.  It now resides on my bedside table, having replaced a lamp that I never used.
2.  Grandma's wedding crystal.  Need I say more?  Okay, I will.  It's classic and beautiful and I love it.  I love having a piece of my grandparents' history.
3.  Vintage Christmas ornaments.  I need to get my tree out of storage so I can use them.  You can't find the incredible glass ornaments that were in Grandma's basement.  I feel lucky to be the new owner of such cool pieces, as well as have a bit of Grandma's Christmas with me.  Even if my own family only spent a few Christmases in Georgia, preferring to have our own family Christmas in sunny Florida.
4.  A super-cool vintage gold mesh wrist purse.  It's quite possibly the coolest thing I've ever owned, and while I claimed it because I thought it would be useful for salsa, I'm also afraid to use it, lest anything happen to it. 

There are a few other things that went into the Jen pile, but those are the biggies.  I took them home in my car, which in the end was fairly stuffed to its little Scion two-door gills, and put them away in their new homes, when I got back to My Small Town.

While I am very glad to have a few pieces of my family's history, there was another strange feeling while I was going through the house... I felt like I was picking through the bones of what was left of my grandmother's life.  I kept telling myself that it was better that my cousins and I had the things than total strangers, because the items meant something to us, but still... I felt a little bit like a vulture.  It was an odd feeling; I still feel quite conflicted about the experience.

Our family is going through its share of drama now as everyone adjusts to the new normal which is life without Grandma.  I know-- or at least I hope with every fiber of my being-- that sooner or later things will even out and peace will be restored.  In the meantime, the bystanders will ride out the storm... and pray that that those inside the tempest survive.