I took the kids {and the dog} up to Logan on Pioneer Day. My Dad needed help cleaning a few things at my Grandpa's house to get it ready to sell. I don't remember all the details now - and I'm sort of glad I didn't satisfy my urge to complain about this on my blog when it happened - but Jeff and I weren't exactly getting along at the time.
So we went up without him.
My job was to clean out the "fruit room." Does anyone else call their food storage room the "fruit room?" I have no idea why I call it this, but I've always done so. It looked just like it did when I lived in the house. And pretty much like it did when I was a kid and playing hide-and-go-seek in there. Shelves of perfectly organized and stacked food. The Jell-O boxes lined up according to their proper order in a rainbow.... I started to cry.
Then I found it. A Tupperware box with THE bear mold.
The bear mold that my Grandma used every Christmas to make teddy bear rice krispie treats with chocolate Reese's peanut butter dot eyes and buttons and a red heart. They were always our favorite treat on Grandma's Christmas treat spread she kept out all month long on her laundry counter downstairs. No one knew the bear mold was.
The tears were coming so hard that I couldn't see. Pearl, who was helping me dump expired cans of food and bottles into garbage bags, looked at me with the most concerned face and asked why I was crying. I could only tell her, "I miss my Grandma." I haven't cried over her like that in a long time. But the memories came spilling back as I opened all the cupboards and closest and drawers filled with spools of thread and knitting needles, Nabisco tins and vases, books like Gone With the Wind, even her makeup and lipstick, untouched and unmoved by Grandpa even ten years later.
And Grandpa's cowboy boots sitting in his closet. All of his papers and reminder notes on his desk. His photo collage wall, handmade toy guns, cars, and hundreds of pictures he took and printed out. Boxing up things in my Grandpa's office was really hard. My Dad seemed lost... he didn't want to be in there but he couldn't stop coming back to check on us. I hurt for him. I could see in his eyes how sad he was that his Dad wasn't there anymore... that this was real. It was really surreal and sad and happy and empty and confusing all at the same time and just plain weird.
Grief is an amazing emotion and process.
Anyway...
After working at Grandpa's house for several hours, the kids were near meltdown from boredom and hunger. We headed back to my parent's house for a BBQ and a few hours of laughter. Shockingly, all of my siblings were there. We talked and giggled, watched the dogs chase each other and fight over a rock, and let the kids run wild until it was dark and well past the time I needed to head home.
And I learned that rubbing alcohol is "not four people uses." Yes, spelled that way.
With the kids crying that they didn't want to leave, I decided to head over to my in-laws to say hi. We watched Logan's 24th of July fireworks show from their front yard. Blu chewed through her leash because I wouldn't let her sit close enough to Jeff's Dad.... guess I'll be spending all my money on dog food and a new leash and collar. When Pearl fell asleep waiting for me to get done talking with Jeff's Mom, I figured the inevitable had come and it was time to really head home.
The late, late drive was worth it. I cried. I laughed. I whined. I remembered. And I had a lot of fun.
