I have this crazy thing with death.
I think about it alot. I've been planning my funeral since I was a kid...the song choices of changed a few times. I worry about my parents dying. I worry about my children dying. I worry that I might die. When I was still in Chico I would go to my Uncle Mark's grave and talk to him. Only when I was upset or feeling lost. I talk to my Grandma Boone still....it's weird, I know. Maybe this is why....
When I was born I had sooo many grandparents. On my mom's side, there was both of her parents & my great grandpa Winkler(my grandma's dad). On my dad's side, I had both of his parents. They were divorced so I also had Grandma Sally, who was married to my Grandpa. Then I had my Grandma Boone's mom, Grandma Koester & her husband, Dick. Also, her ex-husband, my dad's Grandpa Rettig was alive. I was probably around a year when Grandpa Rettig died so I have no memory of him. But, he was sure cute for being so short. I only have one memory of my Grandpa Winkler....him in his wheelchair. He was living with my Uncle Charlie(I think...maybe visiting?). He was very old & very cute & quiet. He never said a word but would hand me mints that he kept hidden behind his back. Then he died.
Great-Grandma Koester passed away after I was married. I never was close at all to her. Although I still have a ceramic doll she gave me when I was young. But, I remember her stories about the men in her life & whewwww, I thought I was boy crazy! Now I know where it comes from. I still had all 4 grandparents at that time so it never really crossed my mind that one day they would be gone. Then my Grandpa Boone & his wife were killed in a car crash. This was so very difficult for me...especially for my dad & his siblings. The thing with my Grandpa Boone, in my eyes, was that he was the most wonderful man in the world and never knew it. I guess in actuality, we were never close either. I could count on 1 hand how many times I remember seeing him in my whole life. But there has always been a deep connection to him. I can't describe it but I'm bonded to him just as if I'd spent my life with him always there. It's long and complicated and doesn't really matter much now. But, when he died, I felt this awful sickness. I was so upset wondering if he knew that I didn't care about his past. I didn't judge him. I didn't have to forgive him of anything because he didn't do anything to me. I felt like I was the one person in his life, that had spent their entire life, completely in love with him. I think he knows this now.
Just a couple years ago, my Grandma Boone got cancer. The whole thing is still a blur and much to long and emotional of a story to repeat. I was very close to her growing up. She was the grandparent that everyone poked fun at. Not maliciously...all in fun. She sort of set herself up for it with her big loud voice and opinions. When she died , I got to be there. Not the moment she died but I was in my sister's home and was there. I'm so grateful for that experience. It is by far the most treasured memory I have with her. I thought her naggy voice and sharp comments wouldn't be missed....I was wrong. I can't believe I'm admitting this....but the older I get the more of her I see in myself. It's true. I miss her all the time. I dream about her. I can still picture myself when I was little staying the night at her house. She would tell that she was going to bite my nose off & sit on me if I didn't get my elbows off the table and scoot my chair in properly. I hated it! But I laugh my butt off now thinking back to how wonderful it was!
My Grandma & Grandpa Watts are still here. Sometimes I think barely. I've been going to Red Bluff to stay with them for a weekend about once a month. I love hearing stories from my Grandma about her mother, her losses, her life. She has an amazing life story and has been through so much. I love to remember our times out on the highway. Picking berries, dressing up with her hats & wigs, & playing the organ with her. I help my Grandpa with whatever he needs, which is everything. He tells me his crazy stories about how Barack has a hitman out to kill him or that he's got to retire before "they fire him." The stories constantly change. Last time he told me all about his girlfriend, who's father owns the toothpaste factory. He was mad she ran off with another guy and married him. He's so much fun that way. But then, just when I think he's completely lost, he looks at me and says, "Tanja, I'm sorry you have to help you're old grandpa like this." To which I reply, "Don't be sorry, I like to do it because I love you." His response is,"I know. Everything I've ever done for you is because I love you so much." And there we sit, him on the toilet, me next to him on the walker. Holding hands. Then we go to his bed where I tuck him nice and tight with the blankets all the way around his chin, just the way he likes it. I know my time with them is running short. That's a real bummer.
I don't really understand how it is that I connect the most when they're gone or nearly gone. I guess the realization of there mortality awakens something inside of me. There is this intangible link between us. It binds us to one another. These loved ones of mine have each made me a little bit of who I am. I feel like a need a time capsule to capture all of the wisdom and love that they have given me. I believe that what I am missing by having lost them, will be regained when we are reunited, and I do believe we will be. And for now, I cherish every moment.
Here is my lovely new fondue pot, courtesy of East Bay Restraunant Supply.
Here is the lovely couple making fondue with Chorizo, jack cheese & peppers. Tasty Stuff!
