Today I was watching Kindred Spirits when I started thinking about my grandma. On this particular episode, a granddaughter was convinced her grandma was haunting her because they had a falling out before she died and their argument had never been resolved. My grandma’s death was the first of many abrupt changes in my life at that time and the longest lasting change was the dissolution of the family bond.
I loved Grandma’s house and I desperately wanted Mom to buy it, but she never even thought about it. That house was full of memories, some good, but mostly the kind that drive people into therapy for several years. My mom once said that the house was too haunted for her to stay there, that there were too many ghosts and skeletons hiding for it to ever be a home. If I close my eyes, I can walk through each room, remembering how it was decorated, and, if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear my grandma’s voice.
It will have been 20 years since Grandma died and I still miss her.