It's been a year & a day since Hugh died.
.
.
It's hard to know what to say; I'm full of a bunch of different feelings - all the ones you'd expect, plus guilt. Mom had a gathering on Sunday, and I didn't go home for it. I just couldn't deal with the drive (& the motion sickness) for such a qucik visit (the visit to the man's folks was a complete crash, even excluding Am's flu). I just couldn't do it. I feel bad that I wasn't there with her, although my brother & niece were there, as were a whole pile of guests as well. We talked a couple different times on the phone - about nothing in particular - so I felt like I was keeping her company, a bit. I still feel guilty.
.
And then I feel bad that I'm being selfish by feeling guilty - I'm not just feeling sad about Hugh, and mom's loss. Grief & emotions, eh? If only they were rational, or made sense. Sadly, the only sense I've ever made out of any strong emotion has been after it ebbed.
.
Maybe now that things aren't so fresh, I'll say what I would've liked to say at his service. I couldn't get the words out - I couldn't get any words out that were about how I felt about Hugh. I could talk about how everything else was, but not about me. Talking still hurts, but at least with the Intarweb, I can wipe my nose on my shirt & you won't notice. (Everyone but S___ thinks I'm joking, right? Little do you know...)
.
I imagine that you do know I miss Hugh. He was like an uncle when I was a little kid - I was utterly convinced that he was Santa Claus. (What else do you make of a friend of your parents who disappears to work "Up North" all winter, and always brings treats & fun whenever he shows up?) Once I was bigger, and my suspicions that he was Santa had faded, he was still pretty darn cool. He'd buy my friends & I chips while we waited in the lobby of the Hotel. He'd sneak us sips - or out & out cups - of beer at house parties. He'd let us drive. All the things that kids think are SO AWESOME when they're 11 or 12 or so... (Some of these are particular to rural Saskatchewan, it's true.)
.
I did spend a little while disliking Hugh. When Hugh & Mom started dating, I had the same reaction that you'd expect from any teenage girl whose mother has a boyfriend - when she didn't. I was Very Angry, and spent a good deal of time Not Liking Hugh At All. It was exhausting to spend so much energy trying to dislike a man that I'd spent my whole life loving. I think I managed it for maybe a month, and I finally gave up and came around. I think I still drove him nuts, but it was the unintentional teenage idiocy that happens to everyone; it wasn't malicious or targeted. (I just didn't want to eat anything green other than kiwis, and he was convinced that I was going to keel over of malnutrition by the time I was 21.)
.
As time went on, our relationship gelled into a comfortable state; Mom was something we both loved very much, so we worked from there. When I brought home my man for the first time, and he & Hugh headed out ice-fishing, I began to appreciate him from a different angle.
A shorter angle in comparison, true, but a different angle. (L-R: Hugh, Mom, myself, & the man. Differences in height are not an optical illusion.)
.
Once I (finally) had a good partner in my life, I could begin to appreciate how Hugh was a partner to my mother. Like everyone, there were ups and downs, but they were better suited, better friends, and had more fun than most other couples I've ever known.
.
(Yes, that's the Big Bad Wolf & Little Red Riding Hood.)
.
Once I became a mother, Hugh came into even sharper relief as a Grandpa. Hugh had always been a hit with the kids - but he liked them best once they started running. Am was a little different - he was here with Mom when she was born (he made fresh French bread).
.
(Same round cheeks, same round bellies!)
.
I don't have a lot of very clear memories from those early days with Am (one of nature's gifts to new mothers, I suppose). One evening stands out - I had Am upstairs with me & she was hungry (I think). I was going to feed her at any rate, but I wanted to change first. I laid her down on the bed, and snuck to the closet. She started crying, and I heard Hugh tiptoe in. "Shhh...shhh... hush..." He was trying to soothe her, and then, against all of his policies about "no kids until they're running", he picked her up to try & comfort her. She settled a bit, but he still look a little panicked & a lot relieved when I came to retrieve her. It might have been his first voluntary baby holding...
.
I think what makes me the most wistful is that Am had such a short time with Grampa Hugh, and Sandy won't have any time at all. Am & Sandy are lucky enough to have still have two wonderful grandpas, and a whole pile if uncles, but I still wonder: who will teach them about water fights? (We had to institute an actual rule "No garden hoses indoors.") What about teddy bear stands, how gumball machines work, how to dive off of the boat, and how to drive the boat?
.
It just won't be the same for them; it's not the same for any of us anymore.
.
It's hard to know what to say; I'm full of a bunch of different feelings - all the ones you'd expect, plus guilt. Mom had a gathering on Sunday, and I didn't go home for it. I just couldn't deal with the drive (& the motion sickness) for such a qucik visit (the visit to the man's folks was a complete crash, even excluding Am's flu). I just couldn't do it. I feel bad that I wasn't there with her, although my brother & niece were there, as were a whole pile of guests as well. We talked a couple different times on the phone - about nothing in particular - so I felt like I was keeping her company, a bit. I still feel guilty.
.
And then I feel bad that I'm being selfish by feeling guilty - I'm not just feeling sad about Hugh, and mom's loss. Grief & emotions, eh? If only they were rational, or made sense. Sadly, the only sense I've ever made out of any strong emotion has been after it ebbed.
.
Maybe now that things aren't so fresh, I'll say what I would've liked to say at his service. I couldn't get the words out - I couldn't get any words out that were about how I felt about Hugh. I could talk about how everything else was, but not about me. Talking still hurts, but at least with the Intarweb, I can wipe my nose on my shirt & you won't notice. (Everyone but S___ thinks I'm joking, right? Little do you know...)
.
I imagine that you do know I miss Hugh. He was like an uncle when I was a little kid - I was utterly convinced that he was Santa Claus. (What else do you make of a friend of your parents who disappears to work "Up North" all winter, and always brings treats & fun whenever he shows up?) Once I was bigger, and my suspicions that he was Santa had faded, he was still pretty darn cool. He'd buy my friends & I chips while we waited in the lobby of the Hotel. He'd sneak us sips - or out & out cups - of beer at house parties. He'd let us drive. All the things that kids think are SO AWESOME when they're 11 or 12 or so... (Some of these are particular to rural Saskatchewan, it's true.)
.
I did spend a little while disliking Hugh. When Hugh & Mom started dating, I had the same reaction that you'd expect from any teenage girl whose mother has a boyfriend - when she didn't. I was Very Angry, and spent a good deal of time Not Liking Hugh At All. It was exhausting to spend so much energy trying to dislike a man that I'd spent my whole life loving. I think I managed it for maybe a month, and I finally gave up and came around. I think I still drove him nuts, but it was the unintentional teenage idiocy that happens to everyone; it wasn't malicious or targeted. (I just didn't want to eat anything green other than kiwis, and he was convinced that I was going to keel over of malnutrition by the time I was 21.)
.
As time went on, our relationship gelled into a comfortable state; Mom was something we both loved very much, so we worked from there. When I brought home my man for the first time, and he & Hugh headed out ice-fishing, I began to appreciate him from a different angle.
A shorter angle in comparison, true, but a different angle. (L-R: Hugh, Mom, myself, & the man. Differences in height are not an optical illusion.)
.
Once I (finally) had a good partner in my life, I could begin to appreciate how Hugh was a partner to my mother. Like everyone, there were ups and downs, but they were better suited, better friends, and had more fun than most other couples I've ever known.
.
(Yes, that's the Big Bad Wolf & Little Red Riding Hood.)
.
Once I became a mother, Hugh came into even sharper relief as a Grandpa. Hugh had always been a hit with the kids - but he liked them best once they started running. Am was a little different - he was here with Mom when she was born (he made fresh French bread).
.
(Same round cheeks, same round bellies!)
.
I don't have a lot of very clear memories from those early days with Am (one of nature's gifts to new mothers, I suppose). One evening stands out - I had Am upstairs with me & she was hungry (I think). I was going to feed her at any rate, but I wanted to change first. I laid her down on the bed, and snuck to the closet. She started crying, and I heard Hugh tiptoe in. "Shhh...shhh... hush..." He was trying to soothe her, and then, against all of his policies about "no kids until they're running", he picked her up to try & comfort her. She settled a bit, but he still look a little panicked & a lot relieved when I came to retrieve her. It might have been his first voluntary baby holding...
.
I think what makes me the most wistful is that Am had such a short time with Grampa Hugh, and Sandy won't have any time at all. Am & Sandy are lucky enough to have still have two wonderful grandpas, and a whole pile if uncles, but I still wonder: who will teach them about water fights? (We had to institute an actual rule "No garden hoses indoors.") What about teddy bear stands, how gumball machines work, how to dive off of the boat, and how to drive the boat?
.
It just won't be the same for them; it's not the same for any of us anymore.
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1 comment:
thank you for sharing hugh with me. i feel so ripped off that i didn't get to meet him; isn't that the craziest thing?
my dad died before mug was born, so the best i could do, after she was born, was drive to rural saskatchewan (where he is buried) and sit her basket on his headstone and ask him to do his very best to love this child from heaven.
and i believe he did... because in time she developed a huge connection to him, even though she had never met him in life. she used to say that grandad was her dad (she doesn't have a dad, as you know).. anyway, my mom nearly went insane with it, but i felt like i knew it was a small child's way to verbalize an impossible relationship. it's ok.
i think you'll introduce sandy to hugh when the time is right. the power of the universe is stronger than you could ever imagine.
now.. where's the kleenex?
thank you.. again. a xoxox
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