Signs, signs, everywhere signs

I was out for my now every other day 1 mile slow jog and to make the time pass I started blogging in my head again. I can't get the recent post about Coincidence out of my head. Thanks to NolaNotes for getting me started on that one. I told her I had been giving that subject a lot of consideration for posting but it seems a hard one to tackle. I gave it a try and in a minimal amount of space. I could say so much about the subject. So here is more.

Today, I thought of another story about signs. If you are a regular reader you know that my grandmother passed away recently. I was thinking about that when I was jogging. And while I was thinking, I suddenly remembered something that happened the night before. I had to really think about the timing of the incident to make sure I was correct. After much thought I know that this happened the night before she died because my mom was in town and my husband was packing to leave for a business trip the next morning. He was gone already when we got the call about my grandma at 5:30am because his flight was at 6am.

The night before my grandma passed I was in our bathroom bathing the kids. I was at my sink filling a cup with water to rinse my daughter's hair when I noticed my shells that sit on the ledge just below my mirror were missing. I knew instantly what happened! Hubby cleaned the bathroom and threw them away! He hated those shells for some reason. I yelled for him to come to the bathroom. I asked what happened to my shells. Sure enough he casually said he threw them away. Why? I asked. Because I was trying to straighten up the sink area and they are just stupid shell pieces, he said. I became enraged but had to keep it under control because we had company and the kids were in earshot. I clenched my teeth and told him I did not appreciate him throwing out my shells without asking me. In fact, I told him he is never to throw out anything that is mine without first asking. That is just common courtesy! He seemed stunned that I was so mad and profusely apologized. He admitted he was wrong, but why so angry?

I told him those shells were collected at Virginia Beach by My Girl and I the last time we visited my Grandma. They were not only beautiful (even though they were small and some just pieces) but they were a momento of our trip to see Grandma and the time My Girl and I spent on the beach together collecting them. He felt really bad then. I actually cried about those shells and was REALLY upset.

Now, let me say, I don't get all that sentimental about things. I have lost many a thing that I at one time considered valuable but once it was gone I got over it. I was even a little confused myself why I was crying over these shells.

But, here is the odd thing. Why did I suddenly notice the shells missing that very night. The night before she died. When in fact, he had cleaned the bathroom and threw them out 5 days before? I used that sink everyday, several times a day. Why did I just notice in that instance?

Hmmmm.

Then, after my mom and I were up early in the morning after the phone call, we sat at my kitchen island sharing a pot of coffee and taking in the news we just received when she told me this . . .

"Ya know, I didn't sleep well last night. I have been here 4 nights and have slept just fine. But last night, I couldn't sleep. I suddenly woke up at 1:30 in the morning and just laid there in bed thinking."

"What were you thinking about?", I asked

"I was thinking about how your dad and I should go to Virginia to see Grandma over Easter. That we shouldn't wait for our annual trip in September."

Where is Arthur?

The death of my paternal grandmother has left me feeling rather strange and uneasy. It was not a complete shock and I don't feel completely sad, but I think I am sadder than I feel.

I think my brother is too. He has called myself,my parents and my husband every day. He is the type that you could go a month without hearing from him. My brother was probably closer to my grandparents than I. Only because he was older and lived with them for awhile when my grandfather was not well and helped my grandmother take care of him. I was off in college and then on to West Virginia in those years. My brother has a myspace account and so do I. Daily, I watched his mood status comment. "I am sad." "Thinking about grandma." "Missing Grandma". Seeing that brings tears to my eyes. He even made his profile pic a picture of him with our grandma holding up a cake. We celebrated his 37th birthday when we went to visit her last September. It was a great visit as the whole family made it (knowing it may be the last time) and she got to meet my youngest for the first and last time. I have great pictures of her with the kids and my oldest really remembers and knows her now.


Anyway, we get a call from my parents who are still in Virginia taking care of business related to my grandmother's death. They tell us they don't know where my grandfather is that passed away 12 years ago. "What do you mean?", I ask. Turns out that his ashes are not in the grave site like we thought. Or at least we aren't sure yet. The cemetary has no record of them ever being placed with his headstone that exists there. Apparently, there is a fee to bury the ashes and their records don't show that ever being paid or that the burial ever happened. My grandmother donated my grandfather's body to medical research and then had him cremated. So it was a few months after his death when the ashes were returned to her. There is record that the ashes were indeed returned to her. No record of what happened after that. And no recollection of every actually seeing them by anyone in my family.

So now, Grandma is gone and she is the only person who would know where Arthur (my grandfather) would be. Did she bury him in her back yard? Did she spread the ashes in the lake? Did she spread them in the farm field near their house? Or did her Dimentia mind just throw them in the trash when she moved to Virginia at age 84?

I guess we will find out if she will rest beside him when they put her to rest. The mystery still remains.

And Death Do Us Part

My very last post last night at 11:49pm was titled Marriage Proposals.

5:15am - My mom's cellphone rings. I get that pit in the stomach and run to answer it since she couldn't hear it. I miss the call and check the number. 252 area code. Don't recognize it. Figure it is wrong number and go back to bed.

5:30am - My home phone rings. I know something is up now. I run to get it and catch it just as the answering machine picks up. It is my uncle from Virginia. He has called to tell us that my Grandma passed in her sleep last night.

Even though you know the day will come it still choked me up to hear it.

She would have been 93 in August.

Sun worshipper