Life, Love, and Loss

The other day, I was putting away Ella's clean laundry and diapers.  While doing so, I had laid her down in her crib to watch her butterfly mobile, something that always keeps her content long enough for me to get a few chores done (as long as I wind it back up immediately after it stops playing, that is).  She was having a great time, laughing and squealing as the butterflies circled around her precious little head. I even enjoyed the third chorus of "Lullaby," her sweet sounds making it more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

And then there was no more giggling.

The butterflies continued to swirl and the music continued to play, but Ella was oddly quiet.

Still being an overprotective momma bear, I promptly investigated.

Apparently, the butterflies had lost Ella's interest.  She was now laying with her head turned to the side, gazing at a quilt that was draped over the side of her crib.  She had her right arm outstretched and the edge of the quilt was in her grasp.  She repeatedly opened and closed her hand on the quilt, studying it closely, with a slight smile on her face.  But this was not any quilt.  This quilt was made by her great grandmother, Kyle's Grandma Bobbi.  A quilt painstakingly put together, each fabric square purposefully deliberated on, specifically for Ella Kate.

It's funny how my mind starts to wander sometimes.  Ella's fascination with the quilt made me think about how blessed she is to have the people in her life that she has.  It made me think back to some of the family members that I have had the pleasure of knowing, and the ones who I have known, but lost.

I can count on one hand the number of funerals I have been to in my lifetime.  That means that I have experienced very little loss.  I remember the loss of my great grandfather Warner (or G-daddy, as I called him).  But before that, I remember going to his house, playing with his prosthetic leg, the way my sister loved to sit in his lap, peeling potatoes on his front porch, watching the horses in the field by his house, and playing down by the creek.  I remember visiting him in the nursing home when his health began to decline.

I remember his wife, Ella Mae Warner, whom Ella Kate is named after.  I remember visiting her and asking her millions of questions (I couldn't believe she knew people who were born in the 1800's!).  I was obsessed with making a family tree.  I wanted to know everything.  I was so interested in how she did things when she was younger.  I was fascinated by her artistic abilities.  I also, of course, wanted to know what my mom was like when she was a little girl.  What kinds of things did she get in trouble for??

I remember my great grandmother Tomlinson, my Granny T.  I remember being excited as she made her way across the yard from her house to my grandparents' house when we visited for Thanksgiving.  I remember silly things that she did, always with a smile on her face. I remember the way she used to always win when playing cards, and the joy she got from pulling one over on someone.  I remember after she passed, the feeling that she was still there, playing little tricks on people.

Ella has already experienced her first loss, but she will not remember it.  It is the kind of loss that I haven't been able to put words to yet.  It's my first big loss, my first adult loss.  When my dad called me to talk about my Grandpa Bass's fading health, I couldn't talk about it.  I listened, and understood what was happening, but I had a hard time talking.  I just said cliche things about how he will be in a better place and he was a great man (both true, but but cliche).

I thought back to when I first found out he was sick.  I remember my dad telling me that he had some heart problems, and that he was on medicine that made him confused.  The medicine also made him lose a lot of weight quickly, and he was very cold all of the time.  Maybe it was because I was pregnant at the time and my brain did not work right, but I did not understand how serious it was then.  When I went to Florida for Thanksgiving, I had no idea it would be the last time I would see my Grandpa Bass.  I still thought his lethargic, confused behavior was because of the medicine he was on, not because his heart condition was so severe.  I wish more than anything that I could go back and really enjoy my time with him, make an effort to really remember everything he said, tell him I love him, skip Black Friday to spend time with him.

When Daddy called me to tell me that he wouldn't be around much longer, I was stunned.  I didn't say much at all.  The minute I got off the phone, I started sobbing, which feels especially odd when you are holding a newborn.  I handed Ella off to Kyle and was only able to choke out the basics that he was not going to make it much longer.  We would have to make the decision if we could make it down to Florida to see him one more time.  I knew we wouldn't be able to.

A few weeks later, I was able to talk to him one last time on the phone.  I was nursing Ella, and she was making sweet little sounds the whole time.  Grandpa was in exceptionally good spirits.  I tried to push the fact that he was dying out of my mind so I could really focus on just talking to him.  I could tell that, although he was happy, he was on a lot of medication. I had a hard time understanding him, so I just tried to tell him about Ella.  He said he could hear her and that she was the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen.  We talked for, maybe, five minutes.  And at the end of the conversation, he said the thing that breaks my heart still to think about.  He told me "We'll get this thing figured out and I'll see you again soon.  I love you."  I told him okay, and that I loved him too.

The thing is, I know I'll see him again someday, it just hurts that I won't see him again on Earth.  It doesn't make sense to me that he just won't be there in Florida.  We won't get to go fishing, or shuck oysters on the back porch together.  But I'll always have my memories, and he'll always be there in spirit.  He'll be there in my Uncle Mike's stories, in my Uncle Danny's laugh, in my Uncle Chris's smile, and in my daddy's sense of humor.

Ella will know about all of these people, I'm too sentimental and love to tell old stories too much to let any of them truly die.  Ella will someday experience a loss that will hurt her, that she will remember.  But, I hope that we are able to raise her in a way that she will know that no loss is permanent.  We will all be together again someday, and that's what makes life, love, and loss a beautiful thing.