the day i find a gray hair
I know I’m going to freak out the day it happens. The day I find a gray hair. I could just wait until it happens or I could just write about it now. About how old I will feel and how aware of my death it will make me. It wasn’t until my nonna died that I even realized that we do die, what death is. What temporary feels like.
And I know you’re not allowed to say this but if it had to be anyone nonna, I’m glad it was you. As hard as it was (and is) it still feels like God had mercy in some weird way. You were more comfortable with death than anyone I know. Not only comfortable, comforting. When my best friend’s dad died I didn’t know what to say. It seemed like nothing I did was making it better.
“He wouldn’t want to see you this sad. He'd want to see you living your life.” advice shared over your kitchen table and in that moment I saw her face change. You did something.
Many memories include me hushing you when you would joke about dying. Now I think this whole time these weren’t jokes. You were serious. I turned them to jokes for my own sake because death still so seemed unreal. It was funny.
I’m guessing that wisdom came from the pain you had to soak inside of when your husband died. The nights you had to let grief blend with your blood and were forced to feel the hangover of not a broken heart, but of a dead one.
I still don't believe you lived through that. I know how hot your love was. Death happened while your cords were still sparking, firing off. You were in the phase a woman is in when she still looks at her mate with adoration, the desire to please. And the world took that away from you.
Your story is my reminder that even if we are lucky enough to find our true love, they can go away. And what in the world happens after that? If you’ve already found them, and they die, do you make the trek again? Or do you decide to commit to some kind of morbid peace, that they are just not here anymore and that, was that.