This morning, I was walking my son to school, when a sudden wave of grief hit me like a tonne of bricks. It came seemingly out of nowhere. I realised there was a familiar scent in the air as I took a deep breath while I collected myself. I looked around, and realised there was a huge pink Camellia right next to me, overloaded with pink blooms. Aha! The same scent of camellias that would engulf me as I walked up the path to my grandparents front door.
Its funny how grief can just sit there in the background all the time, and then all of a sudden pops out to surprise you. It’s about 2 years since I lost my grandparents. Of course, I miss them, but it really hits me when I think of their house and garden. The little cottage that my grandfather made, with all of its built in furniture and tricky storage (cupboards under beds! so clever). The kitchen that was grandma’s domain. Their designated chairs in the lounge room. The garden that my grandmother had loved so much. Those are now gone too. Demolished by developers. I find that thought almost unbearable. Yesterday, I was thinking of grandma, so I drew a little quail. How she loved those funny little birds!
Its seems silly when I write it down, but when I have those moments where a sudden memory engulfs me, I like to think its them saying hello in the only way they can. It’s my mums birthday tomorrow. She would have been 67. She is gone too. It’s been 17 years, which seems completely impossible, but of course, it isn’t. I think of her being gone, then of Dad, then my grandparents. Can they really all be gone? Maybe Grandma’s saying hi because she knows I am sad. I like to think she might be.