i woke up this morning realizing it was 2 years ago today.
the day after my dad, her son's, birthday. the day before what would be her 74th wedding anniversary.
there has never been anyone in my life that has had such a simple, easy presence the way my gramma had.
in so many ways i feel like it must have been 3 years ago, or 5 years ago, at least.
it feels like my grief and this hole has been here much much longer.
it gets smaller one day but then the next it is big and huge and knocking on the back of my eyelids making tears roll again. i don't suppose and i surely don't expect it to ever be gone. i guess that's the beauty and the truth to memories.
in september i went back to that tiny town in eastern montana. the last time i was there it was for her funeral and i left thinking i'd never be back. what was there for me now? it was a place i had spent weeks and weeks in the summer months during my childhood. it was the place that looked different, felt different and smelled different. a good different. in a way it was part of the kendra kay mold. all memories i hold so dear.
but there is something still there for me. i have aunts and uncles and greats. i have cousins and land. i have memories. they are different than the memories i make now when i visit and i always feel a little fade of the past as things change and the present becomes stronger than the past but this is okay. it's gotta be right?
this trip my mom and dad as well as my biggest little came. i was so happy that biggest came with. she had never been and it was so fun to show her montana as i knew it.
ready for it? it's long.
the biggest walking through the school yard playground
the old, and still working, gas pumps
an old shed
horses horses everywhere
the mark of a great hunter
grain elevators always seemed like the largest "buildings" in the world to me as a small child
the only clothing store in town
my friend, who i fed often. once shy, she learned to recognize me and love my visits
these 2
dane valley church my dad attended when small and where my grandparents rest
seeing my dad visit graves pulled at my heart strings
francis martin, my gramma's brother, shot down in WWII, war hero
family oil well, pumping away
me and my 40 acres. the middle of nowhere doesn't always sound so bad some days
teddy roosevelt, our ride for the day
the biggest little and teddy
my biggest, teaching my gramma's sister, marguerite, how to work her kindle-
the gap between 18 and 93
my biggest, teaching my gramma's sister, marguerite, how to work her kindle-
the gap between 18 and 93
the montana bar
this fencepost holds brands of the old farmers
me and my mama's shadow in the afternoon sun
first time the biggest rode a horse. she learned quick-it's in the blood
many hours spent in this spot as a child. many
the phone on the farm-still works
my dads school growing up. he walked a long ways and truly lots of it is sorta uphill
farm dogs. that german shepard will let you lay on him
the long road out the farm
this use to be the grocery store
quite possibly my favorite picture of the trip. this is my dad on the day of his communion in 1955. if you look closely you can see his reflection i caught in the glass 58 years later.
for the people in my life, you aren't allowed to leave.
sorry, but i don't do well with it.
it's me and you til the end.
okay?.
*written monday the 21st.
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