“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. Most of this processing doesn’t involve sports, of course—but some does.
Friday morning, I watched her last breath. Never known, never heard, of a lovelier soul. Not just saying this in death, but more so in her life…So rich, giving, and emptied—yet 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 girl grin as she played volleyball, and a smile came to this gloomy face as happy little girls celebrated life—through a game.
Our mom? A truly wonderful life, though rough the past years. Husband of 65 years—gone. Heartbroken, would Dot Dot give up? Few months later, broken hip and leg. Seriously now, 88 year-olds never recover from that. Then again, do they ever have sports injuries?
Yes, you read that right—sports injury…Think our five-foot granny likes to lose? Think again. Supposedly, Dot Dot was just babysitting. Somehow, even that got competitive, and the little old lady just couldn’t stand to let the grandchild win.
Boy of 10 versus granny of 88—he sure the heck wasn’t going to win the big ping-pong game. So Dot Dot lunges too far, too fast…Six months later, she’s somehow back—again.
Her daughter then gets the news—cancer’s back, and it’s terminal. And that news broke far more than bones. Then, Dot Dot’s stroke— and walking, talking, cherished home of 55 years…Lots of hard change.
Last Friday, her lovely daughter died.
Still, Dot Dot will end well. Amidst the brokenness, she has her Comforter, big family, many friends—and her sports. Tigers, Grizzlies, grandkids’ games—she still loves them all…No, sports can’t cure such pain, but they sure can help.
This all brings to mind another reason for writing. You see, I’m currently serving a self-imposed, two-game suspension from my boy’s games. He’s just turned 12 after all, 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…Sure, the team lost and coaching lacked, at least in this expert’s opinion. But cussing in the church parking lot while pushing Dot Dot’s wheelchair?
Second thought, maybe it’s all her fault (see above ping-pong battle). Sounds like a pretty convenient time to blame her for the genes that “made me do it.” But church parking lot, wheelchair-bound Mom of 90, 12 year-old’s intramurals, cussing…
A tad bit over the top, agreed?
Image: Walnut Grove. Carl Fox.