Grandma Darling died. Like anyone I felt lost. But I didn't just lose a Grandma-- I lost a woman whose strength and courage I admired; I lost a woman who, to me at least, embodied feminism; I lost a woman who made one hell of an Angel Food cake. I didn't realize how much she meant to me until it was too late. But one must not dwell-- after all I'm only twenty-five, and I'm just beginning to understand and appreciate life in some sort of adult way.
Despite not dwelling, or at least attempting not to, I found myself in a hole so deep almost nothing seemed to matter. Everything I loved fell to the wayside, except my family. I didn't cook. I didn't write. I didn't bake. If I wasn't working, I was merely taking up space or talking to Maggie (my cat for those of you who are new). I don't even remember much about work. I know I lectured, but I don't know how well or how much. But I am a Darling, so even if for a brief moment each day, I grasped and I dug, and I'm finally near the top of this hole.
I don't know if I will ever be out of this metaphorical hole, but I know I'm doing what Grandma Darling would want-- I'm living again. The hole may shrink with time. It may even grow if only for a day, but I cannot let it stop me from living. I will not let it stop it me. If I learned anything from Grandma, I learned that. It might as well be the Darling motto-- never give up... never stop living... just keep going.
So, I shall keep going. I suppose I never stopped going... I just slowed down. I don't think Grandma let me stop. When my memories of her weren't enough, she gave me a push, or so I think. I remember driving home, iPod on shuffle. A sad song, a song that reminded me of her came on. I skipped it, and suddenly Kelly Clarkson was singing, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger..." I know Kelly wasn't singing about my kind of loss, but it's still about strength and moving on. I'd like to think Grandma tinkered with my iPod just ever so briefly. She always was a little nosy!
So I may be sad, but I'm ready for life again. I hope it's ready for me.