Sunday, May 22, 2011

and i like you better than anything in the sky


i love you much (most beautiful darling)
more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such a singing (or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at
your each

nearness) everyone certainly would (my
most beautiful darling) believe in nothing but
love


ee cummings


When it comes to hugging and loving, I had the most wonderful teacher. While the stereotypical, story-book grandmothers pinch cheeks and squeeze and condone the playfulness of a child, my Gigi was a nose-rubbing, down on all fours kind of lady. She wanted to know me, to know all of us (all 13 grandchildren) as whatever we were, without judgment.

In my life, I fell in love with my Gigi first. I fell in love with her confidence and her tacky jewelry and sparkly shoes. I fell in love with her sweet, long southern drawl. I fell in love with her hands. I fell in love with the way she talked to me--the language for just me. I fell in love with her hugs; the kind that pour out every ounce of soul and love and courage. Gigi was my person, the one that was meant for me in life. She let me talk, and dance, and create without insecurity. And I knew all of this, the way that I loved her and the way that she loved me, before she got sick.

I can still hear exactly how she said my name. And her laugh.

Lately, I've been missing her in every action and thought. She's supposed to be here and be excitable with me and cry with me and rationalize with me. Every day, I think I should be able to sit on a bed with her and talk and laugh and cry. Because she would get it. There are so many parts of my heart that she, and only she, would get.

In college, I carried her picture with me every day. To give me confidence to stand up in class and speak, to walk onto the field and keep my head high when it should have been hanging, and to remind me to be myself--that myself is grand. And beautiful.

In the ten years since she's been gone, I have not had that person that I could talk to without thinking first. Every word and every action has a consequence, but not with her. The years and months and days have been scary and sad and exciting--I need her embrace. To hold her hand and study our identical hand wrinkles.

But my Gigi taught me how to love with my whole heart. And although sometimes I'm afraid of it, afraid of that loss again, Gigi was the best teacher. Sitting on her kitchen floor, I learned that we are going to love with everything we've got and we are going to hurt and it isn't fair.

When I was young, my little cousin left us one night in his sleep. For weeks and months after this, I was afraid to sleep--afraid I wouldn't wake up if I closed my eyes. My little mind couldn't understand. Gigi painted me an angel and hung it over my bed, wrote and illustrated a book about angels who watch over sleeping children, and lay with me until it was okay to close my eyes, to give in. The angels are always near to those who are grieving, to whisper to them that their loved ones are safe in the hands of God.

In the months that Gigi was sick, I spent ever free moment with her. Laying with her and talking to her and holding her hands. I would go to her house after school and lay in bed with her and rub vitamin E on her scars and talk to her about all of the things I wouldn't be able to after she was gone. Because I knew she was leaving.

For a long time after Gigi left, all I wanted to do was make sure she was still here. I had little life goals of being just like her. To love like her, to hug like her, to dress a little like her (but she was a bit more flashy than I have the guts to be).

So, I woke up this morning aching for a hug and a conversation with her. It's been a long time since I've felt that feeling so strongly. All of the overwhelming plans for the next steps in life have me yearning for her input and her comfort. While so much of her is in me, I need to be able to bury my head in her perfumed neck and cry until its all okay again.

There are little details that I'm beginning to forget. What were the songs that you sang to me? I need to go to Margaret's (her best friend) store again and sit and paint furniture for hours and talk, and I need to sit on the edge of a bed. I need 8 more hours in the car or even just one hug.

For me, I do feel lucky to know what I was losing before it was lost. It has all made me much more aware of all of the people I love and how to cherish them daily. And I think I'll still have a day when I'm 67 where I'll wake up crying for a hug and kiss from Gigi. The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected.

Lubba, dubba, dubba you.


1 comment:

  1. Wow, Blaes, this is beautiful. I felt the same way about my Kaky :)

    ReplyDelete