Jewells of Thought

How does mourning hit you? When you least expect it right? I am already emotional so there are times I feel like a bundle of nerves.

Dad drove us past Grandma Betty’s house going on 58 South to Sandborn and then on to Elnora. On the way to Elnora I realized Dad was taking I-69. It hit me like a flashback to multiple times over the last few years on Sunday afternoons at Grandma’s. I would usually sit by the window next to the old phone. If I heard it once it seemed like I heard it a million times. Aunt Carol recounting a trip to Evansville on the new I-69 or to Bloomington.

I don’t know why that has stuck in my head, but today traveling on I-69 my Aunt’s words echoed in my mind. We were heading to a Birthday Celebration, and here I was crying looking out the window trying to hide the fact I was indeed tearing up.

Why does it seem to be a bad thing to cry? Even when it’s simply denoting a fond memory. Aunt Carol liked to shop and tell us of her and Uncle Jim’s exploits. They enjoyed traveling. So why was I so easily crying on the drive? Why does history have to hit me at different ironic times like driving on the highway she loved talking about?

Sometimes I really wish I could stop involuntarily to think of these things. But how do you do that? I don’t want to forget her either! There are so many things I pick up on that I remember that no one else seems to observe as I do. When I bring them up then they remember, but if I hadn’t mentioned it first they would have forgotten altogether.

I am that weird family member that remembers anniversaries of deaths like my Grandpa’s just recently 24 years ago. Dates evoke memories for me and various memories sometimes. Yet all of this happened because of one memory happening while being on the road the memory was about while heading to an event on the other side of the family.

My brain and my heart oddly working to keep a memory alive…