I don’t normally post on the weekend. I made the decision early on in blogging that I would instead spend time with my guy and his mini me and mine. But I was pulled out of bed in the wee small hours of the morning wanting to talk about love. Yes, this involves a story. As Red Smith once said, “Writing is easy, you just sit down at a typewriter, open up a vein, and bleed it out drop by drop.” And so it goes.
Yesterday I received a card from my Grandma Jingles who will turn 89 on her next birthday. It is a simple card. Perhaps even one that my young son could have created. But it is beautiful and precious to me and I know someday someone will be cleaning out my house and will come across this gem that I will forever treasure.
But here’s a little secret. I demanded that love which is now so easy and evident for all the world to see. Yes, you read that right: I DEMANDED LOVE. Because if I had waited for it, it’s possible that it never would have arrived. You see a few years ago I was looking around and found that somehow all the immediate members of my biological family (my children excluded) had passed away. Save for one~ my paternal grandmother. Other than an annual exchange of Christmas and birthday cards, we didn’t have any type of relationship.
I decided that I wanted my children to meet her. (Deep down I think that I was looking for more, but in protecting my heart I would not admit it.) So I called my grandmother up and said “We are coming to visit you.” That’s right, I didn’t ask, I just informed. We flew a few thousand miles and the visit was good. A small crack in the ice developed and we both were curious to see what was under it. After I returned home our cards and letters to one another picked up in frequency.
A year later I went to see her again and I went alone. I decided to address the big, scary, fat elephant that we both knew was in the room. I asked her why after my parents died was I put into foster care. She gave me an answer that satisfied me and we moved on. Since then I have continued to show up. I have helped move her four times in the past two years as we struggled to find a place where the food was good and there were plenty of activities to keep her socially active self busy. Given that now I often get her answering machine when I ring her, I think that this last move has been good. Although trying to move an 88 year old woman while still wrangling my 8 year old son was no picnic. (smile)
The funny thing about love is that you never know where it might show up. It is all around us just for the taking. We sometimes are faced with the hard task of reaching out for it. There is also the realistic fear that time is never on the side of love. Of knowing that because our hearts have touched another there is a possibility that a day will come when the heart will shatter into a million pieces. But I say the risk is worth it.
What about you?