Sa me touche do temps en temps. Mais pas comme celles qui vient juste de passee. I feel compelled to write in french, yet my bending to the masses for so long has left me at a downfall in that area. I don’t remember the proper grammar, and that’s a disrespect to just keep trying to do it and bastardizing it.
I miss my Memere. I have had too many touches with death of late. Close souls too , and ones that have seriously helped me on this path, and now I just feel empty.
My grandparents, my mom’s mom and dad, meant the world to me. If there was ever solid ground to fall on it was them. My Pepere taught me politics, how to fish, how to laugh, that music could heal your weary soul, and laughter cured all. My Memere taught me love, and discipline and respect and that if you step out of line, someone sees all, and someone usually has the balls to call you on your stuff. That’s love.
Simple, honest souls, that just wanted happy. Troubled families, misguided histories, stolen cultures, and yet they smiled and nothing really stuck on them long enough to scar them. If they were scared, either they didn’t show it, or they didn’t know it, but i knew them as happy.
I lost my Pepere long ago, and I have walked in the shadow of that longing for a long time, knowing he is all ways with me. I feel him closest in the fall, but that presence is all ways there. Its my selfish soul that is crying like a babe for my grandma. The just knowing she was close by, to go spend time with, was soothing. The hole that is now here is needing filling.
Tomorrow i will pack up my tools, and head over to Penetang to clean up the stone that is engraved with my grandfathers name, and make it pretty for her to come lay next to him again.
Its healing, and soothing, but this is not where i wanted you both to ever be, but that is unreal thinking, and acceptance is key. I had my time with you. Blessed by that I should see happy, but for now I grieve, and try to find solace in knowing you dance together again.
Je vous aime gros comme le ciel, and I will all ways be your “pickle”.