Skip to main content

Simple Question...Not-So-Simple Answer

They say that the grieving process is a long one, and I'm inclined to believe it. After almost five months, I guess I thought I was over the worst of it. However, something happened to bring it all back to me.

I was talking to one of my good friends from New York, and he asked me how my life was post-Granny. The question was a valid one, but it really threw me for a loop. Here's the deal -- everyone who's known me longer than a minute knows that I love my grandmother and that she's a big part of my life. My friends have always asked about her, and I've had a million Granny stories over the years. While most of them have never laid eyes on Granny, they know about her through me. Since I'm new to California, no one really knows anything about me, and they don't ask questions like that.

Now that Granny's gone, I really don't know how to live. It's like I'm still here, but my very core has been ripped out. Everything I've ever known has changed. My foundation has been washed away, and I feel like I'm on sinking sands. Nothing is the same. I can't call Granny to find out what it means when there's a ring around the moon. I can't ask her what kind of tea will make cramps go away. I can't even give her a hug or comb her hair or hold her hand.

I'm afraid to go home because I don't know how it's gonna be when I finally go back to Texas with Granny not being there. Even though I always love seeing my mom, my brother, and my uncle, Granny was always there. The three hour drive we'd make every time I went home was for her. My rationale was that, yes, it's long and it takes up a lot of time, but there will be a day when she's not here and then you'll wish you'd made that drive more often.

I don't have to process those things in Los Angeles. This place has never seemed real to me, and now it's like my Shangri-La. Nothing touches me here. The majority of my real friends and family are in other places, and I can live, move, and breathe and not have to face any of the harsh realities of my life. However, when my homie posed that question, he pierced the bubble I've created for myself. He brought the reality of my situation back to the forefront of my existence. He forced me to face myself and my pain in a way that I haven't been doing up to now.

And so I grieve. Not for Granny, though. I know she's in a better place. I grieve for myself and my loss. I try to pull the pieces of my broken heart back together and bind them in a way that will make it strong enough to withstand simple questions from well-meaning friends.


Popular posts from this blog

On Barack, the Nomination, and Black Love

I'm so excited about Barack Obama! I know I'm just joining the teeming millions when I say that, but I think something this big is worth repeating. Never before in the history of our country has a Black man been in a position to lead the free world, and it feels good. I'm so glad that I've lived long enough to see this day.

Beside the fact that Barack is a great candidate for the Democratic party, I'm moved by his relationship with Michelle. Not since The Cosby Show have we seen a successful Black couple who have a genuine and sincere love and respect for one another. What makes their relationship so special is that it's real -- not the product of someone's imagination.

I obviously don't know Michelle Obama, but I want to grow up to be just like her. I love the fact that she doesn't NEED Barack. She's strong, smart, and successful in her own right, yet secure enough to fall back and be supportive of her man. That's something that all y…

In My Feelings...Again

There are times when I think I should change the name of this blog. Today I do NOT feel like a diva. I feel like a pitiful mess of a woman who's completely in my feelings.

I hate it when I get here.

I was minding my business last night when Juice hit me up. (Remind me to tell you about him later.) He wanted to hang out because we'd actually said we would. But he's he's only after one thing and I wasn't inspired enough to venture out to deal with him, so I told him I was in for the evening.

At the same time, New Boo asked me if I'd done my hair.

Let's be clear. My hair in and of itself isn't necessarily that big a deal. However, him asking me about it could indicate that I was on his mind and that he cared about me in more than a horizontal way. That would be awesome...but I know it's not true. Even though I engaged in conversation with him -- because that's what I do -- it was painful.

I am lonely. I want to be with someone who cares about me. I…

Yeah...About That...

I'm watching Scandal, and Mellie was talking about how lonely it is to be the president. She spoke about how men have a problem with regular powerful women, but being the leader of the free world comes with a chastity belt.
I get it.
I'm nowhere near the leader of the free world. I'm not even the leader of free lunch, but I get it. If men perceive you to have one more drop of power than they do, they can't handle it.
This is my life. At least it is when it comes to the men I've known.
It's not even like that for me.
I don't even have enough juice to get what I want at work.
But yet I'm seen as intimidating.