On Grief

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

I was reading a study the other day about the benefits of elderly persons interacting with young children on a consistent basis. The study basically shows that inter-generational interaction is meaningful for both children and the elderly. It decreases social isolation in older adults and improves the social and emotional skills of children. I was lucky to grow up surrounded by grandparents and my great grandmother. My great-grandmothers house sat yards from my own, and I was free to see her anytime I wanted. What I didn’t understand at the time though, is that our bond was special, in part, because of our age difference.

Her home was pure safety. Pure, unconditional love. There was no need to earn approval or affection. I was never ignored or felt like I was irritating someone. She was old and lived alone- she had nothing but time and love to give. I loved her not because she spoiled me or adored me (and she did) but because I felt so utterly loved and safe. When she passed away, it was like a part of that safety died. A part of my feeling of home. A part of the magic that was my childhood.

And when my family had to disassemble her belongings, her magic was disassembled as well. Books, clothing, photo albums, medication, memories. Food and dishes and fine china. Her Bible, her hand written notes, her checkbooks, the ordinary…