A part of me
Everything is familiar. Everything is new. I am new. I am not the same. I am the same. Same in my core. ANGIE. I am the same. I am different. I grew. I grew up. I got big.
On Wednesday, February 1st, I made my final cross country drive into the SF Bay Area. I passed town after town and recalled some memories of the places I had passed. I noticed how some places hadn’t changed at all and others, drastically so. Some needed, some not. Needed.
I knew when I woke up where I wanted to go first. Where I NEEDED to go. First.
I had to go see a couple of crazy ladies and say hello.
Mom and grandma. I hadn’t been to see them in quite a while. Grandma died in 2000, but I was not able to get her name on the stone for a long time, so this was my first time seeing the stone with her name added. I walked around, found their spot, stood there, and smiled while tears welled in my eyes.
I instinctively raised my arms wide and said these words: “I’m back. I grew up. I got big. I got bigger.”
The sun was shining on my cheeks and I felt comforted. In the sea of the departed, beauty surrounded and engulfed me. I felt tall. Taller.
I smiled and squated so I could lean over and try to clear some debris from the headstone. My fingers brushing on and over the perfect etchings of their names, dates of birth. Death. Every letter so perfectly aligned. Neat. Tidy. Exact. So un-like life. Ironic.
I sat with the wonderful quiet that falls over Holy Sepulchure and gazed in silence. Then, I stood up and looked at my loved ones. “I want you to know I have people in my life who love and care about me. And I am ok. I think you would be proud of me. The person I have become.”
I left a piece of me, for them, and slowy walked away. Feeling full.