Sometimes Sad Bubbles Up

Last week I missed Microblog Mondays because I was driving to southern Indiana, by myself, to go to my grandma's 85th birthday. (Nope, that's not a typo, she was 18 when she had my dad and he was 20 when he had me, so I'm lucky to have a young grandparent, even if the math makes eyebrows jump sometimes.) I did not mind driving, I prefer it immensely to flying, and plus I had my trusty new Bluebird to get me there. 

It was a whirlwind. I got to see my dad, my sister and her husband, many aunts, and uncles, and cousins, and my cousins' kids. It was a lot of activity and fun to see people I hadn't seen in 5 years (at my grandfather's funeral) -- and so nice that we were celebrating a life together while that person was still alive to enjoy it. 

I came home pensive, and was struck with the magnitude of what we've lost. I am so grateful for the life that we live, but it doesn't erase that when we turn 85 (hopefully), there will be no giant picture of all the descendants. Because there will be no descendants. There will be no family to throw a party and make a speech about the impact our lives have had on the family. 

Also, I enjoyed running after the kids and counting spiders in the windows of the hotel event center with one cousin's little boy and putting the bubbles from the wedding a few weeks ago to good use. It was a lot of activity, and then I came home and the house was so... quiet. 

Now, I also enjoy the quiet. I enjoy the time I get to read and do Pilates and garden and just sit out on the deck in our Adirondack chairs, drinking some tasty Bordeaux and watching for shooting stars like we did Saturday night. Quiet is nice. 

But I did have big fat tears rolling own my face as I talked about how my being sad at the loss of descendants, of the children who look somewhat like the children we might have had that I got to spend time with. And I felt like I had to caveat those tears, and be like "I LOVE OUR LIFE. I'M NOT SAD ABOUT OUR LIFE." 

It's just those two things can exist together -- the resolution and the loss. The joy and the grief. Sometimes it bubbles up and demands to be felt. 

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 


  1. Oh, how lucky you are to still have your grandmother with you! But I hear you. These family gatherings can be fun but also painful, can't they? And yes, the two things can exist together. And need to be felt.

  2. I feel this. I feel this so much.

    I am always so happy and excited to see my family, but there is always a residual sadness as well. It's just me. No husband, no kids... I go from my very loud family to my very quiet house and the difference is jarring. I love my life too, but I still cry a lot. Like just now. While I was typing this comment.

    You're right. It's both. "The resolution and the loss. The joy and the grief."

  3. Oh, Jess, giant hugs. Yes. The joy and the pain can co-exist. And one often is the cause of the other too. I've had a little thing bubble up unexpectedly recently too. I'll probably write about it. I'm so glad you wrote about this too. It's important that readers who come after us know that it's okay to feel both at the same time.

    Also - how lovely that you "were celebrating a life together while that person was still alive to enjoy it." It is so important to do that. And wonderful that you can. (And it's horrifying me that your dad is closer to my age than you are. Though you are not the first No Kidding blogger to make me feel that about their parents! I should get used to it. lol)

  4. Yay for having grandparents. My son and daughter are younger than you and have none. ::sigh:: I have the same feelings for different reasons. Yes, they both can exist. Thank you for the lovely read.

  5. Oh, exactly this, that both things can exist alongside each other, even as opposites.

    But boy, does it stretch us when that happens!

    Happy belated birthday to your grandma. And I'm joining in the group hug here. xo