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| Day 6 of #sol17 |
I remember staring up the hallway stairs at my grandma's condo. It was quiet, but there were people there. When I walked up the stairs, and turned to the right, I could go into her bedroom. It looked different with a hospital bed. On her dresser were the hard candies I liked, wrapped in clear cellophane in a tube. I don't think I talked to her, but I took her candy and snuck out.
I remember going to the left at the top of the stairs into the kitchen, hoping to find her fudge in those little paper cups she used. There was no fudge, though. Not anymore.
I remember standing at the front window of my parents' house, watching as they drove away on my 5th birthday to go to her wake. I remember crying and crying, because my parents were leaving me. I don't think I understood the rest.
I remember, for what seemed like months after, my dad would listen to Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson in the living room, but often in the dark.
I remember her death, but not much of her life. I wish it were so different.
Ovarian cancer took her, and now as I get older, that is something I remember more and more. Those haunting memories have created fear of the known, and the unknown. Having children of your own changes the way you see the past in such a profound way. I just wish I had more memories of her, not her cancer.
I remember going to the left at the top of the stairs into the kitchen, hoping to find her fudge in those little paper cups she used. There was no fudge, though. Not anymore.
I remember standing at the front window of my parents' house, watching as they drove away on my 5th birthday to go to her wake. I remember crying and crying, because my parents were leaving me. I don't think I understood the rest.
I remember, for what seemed like months after, my dad would listen to Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson in the living room, but often in the dark.
I remember her death, but not much of her life. I wish it were so different.
Ovarian cancer took her, and now as I get older, that is something I remember more and more. Those haunting memories have created fear of the known, and the unknown. Having children of your own changes the way you see the past in such a profound way. I just wish I had more memories of her, not her cancer.
This slice was made trying:
Goal 3: Generating and Collecting Ideas
3.2 Moments with Strong Feelings from Jennifer Serravallo's The Writing Strategies Book.
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