Emotions

What a strange day today. I woke at 7 this morning, crying so hard that I couldn't speak ~ my poor husband trying to comfort me without understanding what in the world was happening. I was just so overwhelmed by sorrow. My dream had been about my Grandparents.

Grandpa was a farmer.

Now, to many, that statement is fairly straightforward and non-descriptive. For me, "Grandpa was a farmer," brings forth so many emotions ~ pride, security, awe, respect, love, endearment ~ and many memories ~ tractors which take on the aura of an old friend, critters and crops, cornfields and hayfields tended by this brilliant man, me as a little girl with my hand in his... walking and absorbing his wonderful world. Grandpa, who would come into Grandma's kitchen for coffee time with his jacket 'mewing,' bearing a stash of just found kittens.
Climbing into Grandpa's truck for trips to his woods in search of fabulous black berries to carry back to Grandma, who would serve them for dinner in pretty dishes with just the right amount of sugar. That truck was the most glorious of all trucks, and those berries where the most delectable of all berries.
Grandpa taught me how to drive a tractor... well, sort of. I'm not sure how old I was; certainly under the age of 5. He set me in front of him on the tractor seat, and allowed me to steer the tractor down the driveway back to the barn. The tracks behind us snaked wildly back and forth, reflecting my young mindset that steering required drastic side to side yanks on the wheel.
Although I was very young at the time, the photos show a younger Grandpa proudly posed with big, white turkeys. Others show him with hunting buddies, or giving a demonstration of harvesting wheat with a scythe. I frequently walked through the pig barns with him, hanging on his every word and action. I remember his 'buddy,' Arnold, an imposing boar, and the excitement of knowing that the boar pen could be a deadly place for a child like me... but I was certain that my near superman Grandpa was invincible.
Grandpa brought new pussy willows to Grandma every spring... (I now treasure a good bouquet of country picked pussy willows far above any pricey flower shop purchase).

I miss Grandpa so powerfully today, even though he has been gone for 15 years. Grandma is sick, and back in the hospital. She's so remarkable and strong ~ has practically bounced back from every major health challenge she's encountered over the years: brain surgery, heart surgery, a broken hip, congestive heart failure. Her nickname (in my opinion) = Energizer Gramma. She just keeps going and going and.. She celebrated her 91st birthday last month! She has long been my idol of beauty, courage, strength, and diligence.

My sorrow of the morning morphed into a bit of self-pity as the day continued on. It's almost Christmas and the list of those I miss dearly was rolling through my memory. Our first Christmas without Aunt Judy ~ Wow, what a painful Christmas card to receive when it contains the signature of Uncle Bob, with an empty space where Aunt Judy's should be.

And to top it off, Our girls are NOT home!

Which moves me into a different mode of thinking. What are these types of days like for Meron? Does her sorrow match, or completely overshadow the sorrow I've felt today? Does Edelam have the same memories of their Ethiopian Mom and Dad, or did she see a different perspective than Meron? Does she desperately miss walking hand in hand with her Mommy or Daddy? Does Lideta remember being rocked on her Mother's chest, or carried in her Father's arms? Do the girls have days when the grief of losing their parents immobilizes them? Have they had the chance to feel the depth and desperation of their emotions in these 5 years of surviving without their parents, wondering about the things their own future holds?

I haven't a clue about sorrow and loss.