A year ago today I woke up after having cried myself to sleep the night before because my nanny had died 10 days prior. Today, a year later, I am up way late journaling and trying to emotionally prepare myself for the last family gathering at the home where every family gathering for my entire 28 years has ever been. Here is a timeline that my adorably nerdy husband made of the major events that happened in our life over the last few years:
As you can see, a lot has happened since my Nanny unexpectedly passed away last September. If you would have told me 10 days after Nanny passed that in a year’s time my Pawpaw wouldn’t be alive either, I would have said yea right. When someone dies people tend to get this false sense of entitlement. Like ok since this person died we should be good for a while on deaths. I definitely thought that. I couldn’t catch my breath when the world kept spinning after nanny died. My mind couldn’t even fathom it continuing without my Pawpaw too.
And now here we are selling their house. Another thing that shocked us because I at least had convinced myself that no one would buy it. It’s in impeccable shape, it has been redone and updated and is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and the backyard looks like that movie “The Secret Garden” so it only made sense to me in my emotional state that it wouldn’t sell. Grief makes me delusional apparently. In all reality though, none of us thought this would be happening this soon.
My mom and aunt grew up in that house. My mom and dad got married at that house. The tree in the front yard that now stands a billion feet tall was their Christmas tree when my mom was a teenager. My brother’s first birthday party was at their house. Every family birthday party for every family member every year was at that house, and a few of my friend birthday parties and school parties and just because parties were there as well. Thanksgiving was there, Christmas was there, Easter was there, Memorial Day was there, if there was a celebration to be had, we had it there. My nanny died there, and we were all there with her.
The house means less without them in it obviously, but it also means more now that they are gone. This is the only tangible thing that we have left of them. I have Nan’s bible and green ring and dry personality, and I have Pawpaw’s watch and old texts and ability to make people feel seen in a crowded room, but the house was theirs. It was also all of ours. They worked to make that house better every single day and they did it together. They ministered to their family there beautifully and consistently and they did it together. I cannot walk in that house without my heart and mind being flooded with hundreds of memories of them.
It’s annoying that you have to make logical decisions. Like why can’t we just keep their house forever and pay people to keep it clean and mowed and cooled and wifi’d for the few times a week or month or year that I might want to go sit on my Nanny’s back porch.
As I try to process, I think the hardest part about this specific piece of letting go is that it feels like the final piece. I have not yet even begun to fully grieve my grandparents. In bible times there was an allotted time set aside for grief and then it was also ok to take extra time when emotions randomly hit you (Genesis 50 for example). These days, at least in my experience, it’s really inconvenient for other people if you need to take time to grieve. It might even be seen as selfish or lazy or weak. I have wonderful people in my life who were faithful to pray for me and check on me, but if I can be totally transparent here, their prayers and “checkings” weren’t all that I needed. I needed grace and patience and a perspective shift on their part when I wasn’t able to fulfill the expectations they had for me. Because I am still struggling to find the time to fully let myself grieve, it is extra heartbreaking to feel like it’s already time for the last piece of the grief. Selling their house feels like the thing that says “ok, it’s done. It’s time to move on.” I want to heal and move on, but also, no I don’t! Who wants to be ok in a world that suddenly lacks two of your favorite people? If tomorrow I woke up ok about the fact that my grandparents were dead, I would be sad that I was ok with it. Grief is weird and death sucks, and it just keeps on sucking because they just keep on being dead. I miss them. I know everyone thinks their grandparents are the best, and it makes me embarrassed for them because they are all so wrong. My grandparents were the best. They set the standard. They shaped who I am. They loved me. They really, deeply, actively, intentionally, daily loved me. They knew me. I know I am an open book here, but it won’t matter how many of my posts you read or how many questions you email me, or how many minutes we spend together, you’ll never know me like they knew me. Especially my Pawpaw.
Here is an excerpt from my journal two days after my Pawpaw died in March of this year:
My pawpaw was diagnosed with cancer in January of 2011 and given 3 years to live. He lived over 6 years. Nanny died in September, Pawpaw was diagnosed with heart failure in December, and he died in March. This is no surprise to me. My pawpaw lived for his girls. When his girls got married and had families, he lived for them, too. My pawpaw loved Nanny from the time he was 18 years old. When she was suddenly gone, his heart failed. She was funny and they were very different, but they were both so special and they loved, took care of, and complimented each other so well. Nanny voiced to one of her friends recently that she didn't think she could live without Pawpaw. She unexpectedly went first, and I don't think Pawpaw had ever even imagined that he'd have to try to live without her. He voiced to one of his friends recently that he was trying really hard to keep going because his daughters didn't need any more pain this soon after Nanny.
What is so amazing to me is that anyone who knew Pawpaw loved him. I am so in awe of his ability to make everyone feel so special. I'm impressed at his ability to have so many meaningful relationships with people. People from other states consider him family. Children with none of his blood running through their veins call him grandpa. The amount of people that loved and felt love from him is incredible, and despite how many relationships he had to manage and invest in, no one ever felt shorted. He truly did the most with his time on this earth. I won't act like he was perfect, but I do know this- he never let me down, not even once. I never doubted his love for me. I never questioned whether or not he'd take care of me if I needed it. I had no guards up with my pawpaw. From scooping me up in his arms when we were collecting golf balls because a snake was at my feet, to crying with me in his living room when I was 16 because my first boyfriend broke up with me, my pawpaw was always there. I don't have the time to write all the ways.
The word that keeps popping in my head for Pawpaw is exceptional. I know everyone loves their grandpas, but not everyone can find the mass amount of people that all say the same things about him. He was exceptional in every area of his life and his priorities were always- Jesus, family, others, himself- in that order. I don't know if I'll ever get over him not being here. The fact that my phone won't light up and show me his name anymore is overwhelming. The fact that my daughter won't know the man whom she is named after is brutal. I won't ever again go eat bologna with him; he won't come see me and bring me lunch; I won't make him anymore frankincense pills or pester him about taking more; no more long talks on his front or back porch; no more pictures of him with his open mouth smile; I'll never hear him say "Abbie Dunlap" again; he'll never tell me I look like Helen Baker again; I'll never see him cry again. He'd cry because I was pretty, cry because Dad prayed at every meal, cry because I married a good man, cry because I told him a story about my students or Joslin, cry because I told him I loved him, cry because I walked in his house, cry because I hugged my brother or sister or mom or cousin or daughter, cry because it's what he did. He cried. Pawpaw loved, and PawPaw cried. I am proud and extremely thankful that I got to be Troy Loula's granddaughter. I am beyond proud of the man he was. He was exceptional. I miss him and always will. I am so thankful that it hurts this terribly. I hope he knew how much I loved him. Tyler said I told Pawpaw obnoxiously, but I just don't think it could've ever been said enough.
I’m gonna try to go to sleep now. I’m gonna wake up in a few hours, put on my sweats, and head to Nan’s like I have a thousand times before. When I get there I’ll get butterflies like I always have because the thought of seeing someone who thinks you are better than you are and better than anyone else just feels good. It was always exciting. But today when I get to the door, my Nan won’t answer with a “hey kid.” My Pawpaw wont cry and tell me I’m beautiful ( baggy sweat pants included). It will be another sobering punch to the gut when neither of them answers the door. But then I’ll walk in and their home will bring me the comfort that no other place can. I’ll eat and talk with my remaining people around the table that has seen more meals, tears, laughs, and fights from this family than any other place. I’ll watch my daughter whom I named after my Pawpaw climb the same steps and play with the same things that I did at her age all the while knowing that she’ll never fully understand how special her name is because she’ll never know the people who made me want to give it to her. That is the most painful part of all of this. I gave her her name expecting her to know them intimately, and I am angry that she won’t. I know they are in heaven spoiling the three babies that lived in my stomach but that I never got to meet, but I just really wish they could have lived here with Loula first.
If you’re grieving, I’m so sorry. It literally is the worst. I don’t know where I’d be without Jesus. Even when I passionately disagree with His choices, I’m glad He’s mine, and I know He can be trusted. My grandparents being gone feels like a lot of my security is gone too. I’m thankful that Jesus is my ultimate security and that He already conquered death so I don’t have to worry about ever losing Him too.
*The yellow rose on my site was chosen as the site picture because yellow roses were Nan and Pawpaw's favorite.