“Of Grief and Granny”
Why sports? Why now?
Writing visits strangely in grief, and after burying a beloved sister two days ago, grief’s my companion. And though most of this season doesn’t involve sports—some does.
Friday morning, I watched her last breath. Never known nor heard of a lovelier soul—so rich, giving, emptied, and full. Words can’t describe the heaviness of that day, and sports obviously can’t heal the pain. But a day later, I watched my little girl smile playing volleyball, and a slow grin came to this gloomy face as happy children celebrated life—through a game.
…Granny? A truly wonderful life, though rough the past years. Before her daughter, Dot Dot buried her husband of 65 years, broke a hip, and shattered her leg. We all know 88 year-olds never recover from all that.
But then again, do they ever have sports injuries?…Yes, you read that right—sports injury. Think our five-foot granny likes to lose? Supposedly, Dot Dot was just babysitting. Somehow, even that got competitive, and the little old lady just couldn’t stand to let the boy of 10 win the big ping-pong game. So she lunges too far, too fast.
Six months later, our athlete’s somehow back until her daughter gets the truly breaking news—the cancer’s returned, and it’s terminal. Then, Dot Dot’s stroke claims walking, talking, and cherished home of 55 years.
Lots of grief packed in a few years. Still, she’ll end well, for amidst the brokenness, she has her Comforter, big family, and yes—her sports.
…This all brings to mind another reason for writing. You see, I’m currently serving a self-imposed, two-game suspension. Keep in mind, my boy’s just turned 12, so now it’s big time.
It all happened a few weeks ago. Somehow, I managed to forget that he was just playing intramurals—not even competitive, and of course Dot Dot couldn’t miss the game either. Sure, the team lost and coaching lacked, at least in this expert’s opinion. But cussing in the church parking lot while pushing her wheelchair?
On second thought, reflecting on the great ping-pong battle, maybe it is all Dot Dot’s fault. Sounds like a pretty convenient time to blame her for the genes that made me do it. But church parking lot, wheelchair-bound granny of 90, 12 year-old intramurals, cussing?
A tad bit over the top, agreed?
Image: Walnut Grove. Carl Fox.