Mammie,
I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I'm not one to really show a lot of emotion here recently when it comes to pain I feel. But as I see your birthdays still passing, reality has begun to set in on my heart. I guess I'm writing this because I need a release. I know if I said this to you, it would be hard for you to remember I said it. But it's okay because I know deep inside you, you know my heart. It might just be hard for you to tell me you love me sometimes.
It's been years and years but I still smell smells that remind me of staying at your house sometimes. Everytime I see fig newtons I think about digging in your cookie tins, or if I get cheddar cheese I think about you making me cheese sandwhiches. I remember everyone making fun of me because I chewed on a stick, when you told me it was a tooth brush. But you told me it was so I believed you. I remember sitting on your porch swing at night with the crickets chirping and the mosquitos nibbling on me. I remember you telling me not to touch the chains on the swing because it would pinch my fingers and also because spiders liked to build webs there. Until the swing got to old to sit on. I remember your cement steps and how you never let me sit on them because I would get hurt. I remember sleeping in bed with you under your heated blanket or hearing the chirp of your smoke detector that didn't have any batteries. I remember that you always named your dogs "Puny" and playing with puppies was apart of my childhood at your house.
You fussed at me when I watched tv all night but you let me anyway and you walked with me to the pond. I really grew up on the farm with you and it's one of the biggest and most cherished memories of my childhood. Every Friday night at Mammie's. Using your rotatry phone or you waking me up in the morning my blasting the gospel music on your crackly radio.
I'm 25 now. That was over 15 years ago. You're 85.
Life feels like its passing so quickly. Your suprise 70th birthday party felt like it was just yesterday.. But it was 15 years ago. Staying at your house the night Jacob was born, was 18 years ago.
And now, I'm having to face a reality that I really don't want to face.
You're fading. But with grace.
Gosh you're such a badass.
You've survived so much in your life and you've really thrived. You taught me the truest meaning of "whatever." And not that it means you don't care, just that it means you don't concern yourself with irrelevant crap. Not to put up with anyone pushing you around. You've taken literal bullets for people. Not many people can say that. I still want to say you're fading too fast or that I'm losing you too soon, but I'm not, and you're not. You're awesome. Your face still lights up when you see me. It's all still there. But you just can't tell me.
Is it bad that I miss you a little? I know, you're right there.
You're the same lady. But it's hard to talk to you now.
I know that you know, what I'm saying when I talk to you. But responding, is hard.
I'm trying not to have regrets as I know, that I'm an adult now, and this is life when you get older. You get wrapped up in your own world and everything slips.
I'll be truthful. I think about you all of the time but I push it away as much as possible because I'm afraid to think about you too much. I'm afraid of how much longer I'll see you. You've always been there. How am I supposed to feel? Now that the name for your struggle to speak is dementia, what am I supposed to do. How am I supposed to NOT be afraid?
You've molded me as a person. More than any of the other grandkids I'm sure of it.
I was under your feet all the time, watching your outlook, your reactions.
I talk with my hands like you do, I say "whatever." Just like mama, who says it just like you. You've impacted every aspect of my life from positive to negative, but more than anything, you've taught me strength and perseverance. You've pushed on, even when you legitimately can't speak anymore.
You always let people know that you're going to stand your ground.
And that's who I am. Jessica Louise Cavanaugh.
I carry your name with me every day, proud now. I used to be embarrassed. Not because it's your name but because it was "old fashioned." But now, I'm proud of it because it's the name of the most badass woman on the planet. And that's who I'll be in honor of you.
I guess the point of my rambling is, that I'm afraid.
Afraid of losing you, afraid of living a life where you're not always around the corner. Afraid of looking at you one day and seeing emptiness where light once was. I'm having a hard time accepting the fact that life doesn't stop for anyone. I know your soul is thriving and you're still there. You aren't gone yet but I'm afraid of you being gone.
For now, I'm living, and trying to not have regrets.
There's nothing I could have done. I've loved you and will continue to love you until your very last days. And I know you know that. I just wish more people could see you how I do.
My truest hero, and biggest inspiration.
I'll end this by thanking you, for teaching me who I am, molding my spirit and really showing me how to live life as a strong woman. You'll never know how much I love you but I've always known how much you love me.
Love,
Jessica
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