I know they see the same in me and it makes us both feel strange
No matter how you tell yourself, it’s what we all go through
But those eyes are pretty hard to take when their staring back at you
Scared to run out of time
This weekend my husband’s family ventured over to his grandparents house to collect some of their grandparents belongings. His Grandma and Grandpa have both passed away, his grandfather as recently as last December. We too went over Saturday to retrieve some of the furniture we stored in their basement and then proceeded to talk about past times spent in the house. I tried on a few of Grandma’s vintage hats and Phil rummaged through the secret room underneath the stairs for unique antiques. We left with a couple hats, a wooden jewelry box, a basket of bibles and a painting that Phil’s Mom purchased for them many moons ago. In the end, you find that the most valuable items are the things that cost the least. Their value is measured by the story that’s behind them or their frequency of use.
I don’t know what I’m getting at. I think I’m just feeling a little sentimental is all. I hate to think of losing someone close to me. As I continue to age I think on my Grandpa who has passed or I study my Grandma’s face which has changed so much. I hear more about my Mom’s aches and pains and I witness her bandaged knees and elbows. I expect to have many many more years before I’m wrapping myself in their hats and robes out of remembrance, but I can’t help but think on it now. I’m ashamed of the fussing and fighting that I do with my sister or the lack of time spent with my brother. Don’t get me started on the tantrums I throw at Phil or shooing little P.J (our pooch) away and I pray that Zoe will outlive me the way natured intended. I won’t even begin to mention all of the Aunts and Uncles and Cousins and the Step-Dad that I truly have yet to really “know.” All the while I’m thinking that I am running out of time.
It’s strange, but I don’t believe that I am fearful of death, at least not yet, I’m more so fearful of being the last one standing. The one who’s left behind to remember all of the “good times” AND the “bad times”….ALONE! I don’t think I could handle watching all of my loved ones say good-bye to me. I don’t even like to be the last one asleep at night (It totally spooks me out)! But I suppose there’s no way of knowing or predicting the future. It’s sometimes hard to think that the future will one day be today. But I suppose I better get used to the idea.
How do you handle losing loved ones? How do you honor their memory? Are YOU scared of being the last one standing?