Growing up sucks sometimes...

Its been kind of a strange week so far and have not been so willing to share some of the things I have been feeling and dealing with.

After thinking about it this morning, I decided something that always helps me the most is writing down what is troubling, hurting me.

When I was in high school,(now I didn't know I was gay back then, nor do I think I even knew what that really meant.) I just knew that I had my high school best friend whom I hung out with all the time, and grandmom (in some ways she was my best friend as well.)

Don't know how it always came to pass that we took her with us or what, but some of the best and happiest memories I have of her, are the three of us, Tree, her and I going to Walmart. As she aged she was more hunched over then ever, but she would get a cart and I swear that she would walk up and down every isle in walmart. We always joked she was looking for a man, but she said no.

After doing this so many times with us, she started joking herself that she was going to find a old man for herself that had cute grandsons for us. Tree and I always just laughed. She would sit outside in the sun and let us hang with our friends. Sometimes she would join in, sometimes she was just there.

As she aged, her mind was always sharp. When you were in the dog house, she would call you by your full name. You knew then it was time to run. You could stand back a ways from her, and if she thought you had a smart mouth on you, she would reach out with her cane and hit you with it.

She loved sweet pickles and half sandwiches..

She would always wear flowery pleated dresses and sleeveless shirt with jackets over them.

One of my happiest memories, was seeing her watch me graduate. She and I got a picture together and I do believe that was one of the best ever taken of us together.

We gave each other so much trouble. Don't let her surprise you, she could give as good as she got. She never let me smart mouth her, always telling me to be a lady, and when I think she realized I was me,tomboy to the core, she let me be, but still tried to encourage some women traits for later.

She loved telling stories about when she was a kid, loved listening to the tiny radio at night, with the ear piece in, and me a room away, I could always tell you what the news was, since it was so loud.

As she aged, before I moved out, she had issues with her back, I would rub her down and I swear more then once she fell asleep on her feet.

House coats when she was indoors, always shooing away the dogs looking to get a nibble of her food.

Hard candy was a weakness for her.

I would remember summers in Florida where I would burn so bad, and her tender hands always putting lotion on me, warning me of the dangers of too much sun. I honestly miss that.

I moved out and on with my life. I would think of her but... I never wrote. A guilt I live with till this day.

Couple years ago, I went home for the first time in a long time. Already divorced, with Tina and living a now happy and stable life. I saw her and I felt my own heart break. The women that could hit you with a cane at any distance, the women who made me laugh, held me when someone broke my heart, or just let me draw as she watched, was so tiny, so fragile. I could only cry.

My folks told me she might not know who I was..
but.. She did. She said my name to everyone amazement.

She and I cried together. I, who have not prayed in a long time, said the Lords prayer with her, touched her face, kissed her forehead..

We ate pickles together (mind you I hate sweet pickles), we made a mess with the pringles.. But darn they were good.

Before I left, the day I left, I sat with her, told her I loved her. That I was happy, and I wanted her to be well and happy to. Again, I prayed with her, as she did with me every night when I spent summers with her, and every Sunday we went to church.
I cried, and told her I loved her and then told her it was ok to go... I remember praying that she would feel no pain, that her journey would be a sweet and beautiful trip, and that granddad be there waiting with open arms.

I left...

Less then two weeks later, grandmom passed in her sleep.

At the funeral, everyone talked about her life, her family and her.. The one thing that made this so difficult for me, maybe to this day, is that one of the family, said to me..
"You know.. She was just waiting to see you one more time."

(great.. Here I sit crying... At work.. Ugh... Tissues anyone?)

When I first started cycling... I would always feel a spirit along the ride.. Take that how you wish but like someone was with me, seeing and feeling the good, bad and the sweet nature of my rides.. I always said it was my grandmother... That I had never met, who died before I knew her..

Now.. When I cycle I feel more spirits with me. Whither its true or not, I don't care, but I believe and need to believe its both of these ladies with me. One that I never met and one, that in a large part of me, showed me how to be strong for myself, be a lady, and still achieve my goals I set before myself.

I wish she could see me do this in 15 days.. But.. Some how.. I think she will be with me..

I still hurt from my loss.. From my guilt that she was always there in high school. Best friend, parent, and sometimes task master.. And I don't know if I ever told her.. How much she meant to me. Sometimes ... I feel like saying I love you is never enough.

So for all those who read this, who know me, and have had me tell you I love you, I don't know how to tell you how much I really love you, and how thankful I am to have you in my life and in my heart.