Grandma
St Patrick’s day is an odd celebration for me. I was raised around ceremony, around guffaw and the clink of glass. A pint of black and a bar full of dancers. It’s odd to me because it became the day of my grandmothers passing. It’s strange every year but this one, I am eleven thousand miles away from my upbringing and I feel distant from her despite her being nowhere anymore. That in itself is bizarre. How a person stays in the places they’ve left. How they will forever haunt it. If you don’t believe in ghosts in the whole bedsheet garb I totally understand, however, this definition of ghost is undeniable. We leave a piece of ourselves everywhere we go. In every place we laugh. In every place we cry. We spread ourselves like seeds in the wind and we burrow in the places we make memories and it is memory that does the watering. Every time I think of my grandmother and her garden, I imagine a branch sprouting from tree trunk, cartoon like and sudden.
My grandmother wouldn’t pay much attention to such holidays. As long as her bingo ran as scheduled and as long as her tv shows were unaffected. I will admit up front I didn’t know her as well as I should have. Didn’t savour the time we had and was too caught up in the haze of youth to create more precious memories. If you’re reading this grab the ones you love with ferocity and create those moments. Unfortunately none of us are infinite and departure is a promise we can’t break. I don’t drink alcohol anymore but I’ll raise a cup of tea for her. I’ll bake some really shitty bread and I’ll probably hear her annoyance from where ever she is. All I know is that it’s far. All I know is I can’t get there. All I know is I wish I said I love you a thousand times more. Wished I asked a million more questions. Be curious and open. Not tomorrow but right freaking now! You never know when it will be too late. And an excuse to love people more is an excuse I will take. Hope everybody is doing good. This week has been non stop and I’m feeling a little deflated but somehow thinking about the Saturdays spent with family at my grandmothers is putting air into my lungs.
This one is a really cool concept I want to do more of. Making 3x3s different. The last word is breadsticks by the way.
And hey, I know grime isn’t everybody’s cup of cocoa but this is fitting and I’ve had it on heavy rotation.