This is Wemouth Cemetery. The end of that row is where they laid my grandmother's body to rest.

Of course, she isn't really there.

Grandma was, well, my Grandma. She didn't back cookies, couldn't cook worth a damn, argued politics with a keen passion, played Gin like a cardshark, and was the first person to argue my viewpoints with me.

When Bush was finally declared the winner of the Florida election and thus, President, she called me up chuckling - "Your guy never had a chance down here."

She called me 'sister' towards the end, as a form of endearment. Shaking her keys at me when she was impatient for us to be off, as I would pack up my purse and tell her to 'shh'. Her silver curls and grinning eyes trying to look all bossy and imperious.

Ha.

Of all the relatives around my childhood, she's the one I stayed in a conversation with throughout my life. The one I got to know, and the one I let know me.

We hardly agreed on much - politics, decorating, even marriage. But we got each other. And we liked to spend our Sunday nights arguing on the phone about foreign policy and CSI plots.

When my cat fell out the window of the apratment back in my poor, poor days. He had a really broken leg. A few days later, I got a check from her for $500 - completely unasked for. I called her up, in confusion.

"For the vet bills, dear."

When my cat died a few days later, I called her again. I was unable to say anything, I was so sad.

"Elizabeth, is that you?" she guessed. "Oh, he died, didn't he...?"

Some years back, I went on a hunt for her gravestone. I had to see it.

I thought I was fine, you know. As we strolled up and down the rows looking for her name - my name.

And then we found it.

I almost broke into a million pieces. Like I'd decided she wasn't really dead until then. Until I traced her name, my name, in the stone.

Bear and CD and I held each other for a long time as I cried.

Then Bear found 3 beautiful stones. We placed them on the grave she shares with my grandfather, and remembered her. We prayed for her. We missed her.

Since she died, I've been trying to get to Florida, to her condo.

From there from the time I was a kid, I would visit her (and Grandfather, while he lived) each winter. She and I that would hang out at Denny's (Grandma loved her some Early Bird Special on a Senior Discount) and chatter away the late afternoon. Then we'd walk the beach at sunset. Watch the night sky for stars.

My father and his brother kept the condo. Got a dumpster and cleared it out. Now they rent it out for 6 months each year - Dec to May.

Since she passed, it became something of a compulsion, to walk that stretch of beach again. To listen to those waves.

This year, my father relented to a time when we could go down to the condo. The week of November 13. Yes, my birthday. Even sent us the keys.

Our bookkeeper could be heard shouting all the way from Canada. That we'd have to use a credit card. That we can't really afford this. Really.

The last 2 weeks, I've been so sick. Coughing for air. And hanging on for this day.

On Friday, I have to be well enough to go, I would tell myself. Even if I have to pack dirty clothes, and travel with bed head. Even if I cough my way across country.

Last year? Paris.

This year? Florida.

Warmth. And salty breezes. Palm trees, with their long giraffe-like trunks. Pastels and long sunsets. And the memory of my grandmother's laugh on the sea.

I've shed tears into the ground of her death. Her 'no more'.

Today I fly to where her life was.

To be warm, to smile, maybe to cry. To relax, unwind, and be open. Maybe, to find a little healing.

In more ways than one.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:52 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 707 words, total size 4 kb.

1 Have a wonderful, relaxing time. Nothing like the sea air and the warm sand to make you feel wonderful.

Posted by: LeeAnn at November 10, 2006 05:04 AM (SLFj+)

2 I hope the salt air, and the sand in your toes is the medicine you need.

Posted by: cursingmama at November 10, 2006 09:53 AM (PoQfr)

3 What a beautiful story, and beautiful memories. Hang on to them, and tell them often to those who knew her, and those who simply need to hear. Thanks for the story today. Feel better, and enjoy the warm, salty breezes for all of us....

Posted by: Whymommy at November 11, 2006 06:47 AM (9CfVk)

4 Your posts always touch me - this one maybe more than any other. I've been missing my own grandmother, my "bestemor", so much myself lately....Longing to go back home to her... I'm so glad you are taking this meaningful trip.

Posted by: gigi at November 11, 2006 02:45 PM (ljeWJ)

5 Beautiful. I just have to say, Elizabeth, that your writing is getting better and better.

Posted by: becky at November 12, 2006 06:27 PM (gxmeq)

6 What a gift your grandmother was. Enjoy yourself she would want that for you

Posted by: angela at November 13, 2006 04:09 AM (gloT8)

7 What a great story. I hope this trip is everything you hoped it would be.

Posted by: Michele at November 16, 2006 09:49 AM (FN5hT)

8 Since you read my "Snowed In" I have come back to read your blog. I love your writing style. Your "sister" sounds very much like my Aunt Kathryn. I was named for her and if I could be like her, I would be a very happy woman. She was sharp and fiesty. She claimed to hate sentiment and then would hand me her mother's silver because I was the closest she had to a real granddaughter. Several times now, your pieces have touched something in me that has inspired something of my own. This is another one

Posted by: Kat at November 17, 2006 05:51 AM (LiZcA)

9 oops. yikes embarassment! I got here through a link on someone else's blog and thought it was her archive. Doesn't change the sentiment of my comment... just paint it a shade of red.

Posted by: Kat at November 17, 2006 05:57 AM (LiZcA)

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