Love and Goodbyes

You know, it's true what they say. To love means taking a risk of being hurt.

Since Chuck died, I've sworn to myself many times that I will never love anyone with my whole heart ever again. Of course, I can't stop loving those I already love. But I swore my heart was closed off to any additional "risks". I definitely would never love anyone new. But I also wouldn't love anyone any more than I already do.

I figured it's pretty simple. I remain neutral...or level. And once I go through the pain of losing my current loved ones? There is no chance for the pain of loss to touch me ever again. (Of course it's been in the back of my mind all along about what I will do if and when my sons have kids. Am I going to NOT love any new grandchildren? How is that possible?) I'm sure this is just a logical (grief) response to an illogical (grief) thought pattern.

But this last week with our oldest granddaughter, Lindsey, visiting has proved to me that I am not capable of withholding love. Although I've always loved her, she opened my heart up even more during her stay. In seven short days, she taught me that love is worth the possible pain. An 8-year-old taught me that...such an important life lesson. She taught me that there is always hope and that anyone can persevere through the hardest times. (And believe me, this little girl has seen more difficulties and heartbreak than even a grown adult should have to endure.)

I worried so much in the days leading up to her visit. I thought I would break down and cry the moment I saw her. I didn't though. It was a happy, but casual, reunion. Our visit was nice. It wasn't overly exciting. We weren't on the go all week...trying to fill up every minute with some exhilarating adventure. We played games. We basically hung out around home. We were just together. I asked her what she wanted to do. She didn't care. She wanted to play games. She wanted me to watch her favorite tv shows with her. She just wanted us to be together. It's funny how a child can take you back to the basics, isn't it?

No, there were never any extra special days. We didn't drive here and visit there. We didn't spend much money. The most extravagant (expensive) thing we did was go to the movie theater. We played games (she beat me most of the time), we watched tv, we ran errands together, we caught toads (she's a girly-girl and a tomboy all mixed together!). And we talked. We talked a lot.

We talked about her school. Her new friends. We talked about everyday things. We talked about my job. We talked about clothes and makeup and hair. We talked about pets. We talked about family...about her mom. Her sisters whom she misses so much.

We talked about her Grandpa. About his funeral. About where he is buried. About memories of him.

We talked about life. We talked about death.

And everything in between. Sometimes until very late into the night.

We bonded. Just when I thought we couldn't be closer, our bond became tighter.

.....sigh.

And then it was time to say goodbye again. I took it much harder than I thought I would. Yeah, I thought about whether I would cry or not when I first laid my eyes upon her again. I didn't stop and consider the goodbye part of it. I didn't seriously think about it until this morning. I talked to her on our trip about us keeping in touch a little more often. She expressed her wishes to come visit more often and for a longer period of time next summer. We strategized on how we could get together sooner...instead of waiting almost another year.

And then we arrived at our destination.

Her other, less favorite :), Grandma gave her a bear hug and told her that she missed her. I'm sure she did. There is no way that can compare to the way I've missed her for the last 10 months. When Lindsey walked around to the other side of the car to put her stuff inside, I took the opportunity to thank my husband's ex-wife (whom he wasn't very fond of...still...after 20 years) and my nemesis for all of these years..."Thank you."

"Thank you for letting her come and visit. It was really good for me. And for her, too, I think."

And then I cried. Damn tears. I didn't want to. I didn't want to appear vulnerable or weak. Not in front of the ex-wife of all people. She hugged me and told me not to cry. She replied, "Any time you want to see her." She told me to let her know if there is anything she can do.

This might sound cruel, but I don't trust her. You would have to know the history to understand that. But I have to take her for her word. She has the ultimate control over Lindsey now. Her word and her promise is my only hope for a future with Lindsey...my Granddaughter. Our Granddaughter. She doesn't belong to me. We all have to share her. (Although I am the one who taught her to say "Grandma" when she was less than a year old!)

I feel honored and privileged that I can still be her Grandma. I am so lucky.

I got my emotions in check enough to hug and kiss Lindsey goodbye. She left with the hope that we will see each other soon. Unfortunately, she has learned at an early age to not take things like this for granted. She left happy. Not happy to be going "home". But happy and fulfilled because she spent the week with her favorite Grandma. (Her words...not mine.)

I cried for about the first 40 miles home. I felt like I lost her all over again. Just like last summer. Last summer may have been more difficult because I didn't know if I would ever be allowed to see her again. It hurt like hell. But last summer may have also been easier because Chuck and I cried together. I had somebody here who knew exactly what I was feeling. I had somebody here to tell me to "calm down"...as only he could. I had somebody here who was going through the same exact loss that I was.

Yeah, I cried because of having to say goodbye to her. My Lindsey. But I think I also released so many more tears for the many great losses I've experienced in the last year. Lindsey is a person. A unique and special person. But she is also a symbol of my life with Chuck. Of our life together. On so many occasions, our life revolved around her and her sisters. To lose her would be like a break in a big, strong chain of memories.

I've had to say too many goodbyes lately.

I will move forward from this past week having learned and grown. That beautiful little girl reminded me that to never allow myself this type of unconditional love would be equal to dying. She taught me that love is life and life is love. She taught me that it is worth taking the risk of being hurt.

After a week of fun and light and love, the house is too quiet once again.

But my heart is full. I have been reminded how love can be...in its purest and most simple form. I am loved by an innocent child.

She's worth the risk.