Nothing but the rain

It's been raining a lot lately. And by raining I mean we should have started building an ark ages ago because at this rate we will soon all be underwater. A few days ago on one of my walks around town with my flimsy little umbrella I thought of something that hasn't crossed my mind in years. My grandmother had an umbrella, a small but proper one. For years and years it was always the same olive greenish thing of sturdy built that never once got turned over. And I wonder what happened to it, who did I gave it to and why the hell didn't I keep it. At the time of her death I had a lot on my mind to worry about a silly umbrella. But looking back I wish I had. Because I chose to live in a very (very!) wet country and having a constant reminder of her would've been nice.

You see, my grandmother passed away in 2010. One day she was fine and two days later she simply wasn't here anymore. We were never close, not as much as she wished and as much as I needed, and yet that was the status quo. Mine is a complicated family history. Suffice it to say the word "feud" is a poor description. And so it was easier to not get involved. To keep people away.

And now all I have is the regret of all that was left unsaid and undone. Now there is only one living being with whom share the same genetic heritage from that side of my family, and all the stories and recipes and mementos are lost forever. When my maternal uncle died I had two weeks to empty the house they lived in for over fifty years. And I had only my own bedroom to store whatever I chose to keep, so I kept very little. The tea set, a few pictures of people I could identify as family members, one of her scarves and little else. And now I wish I had kept the umbrella. I sure could use it now. The umbrella and a bit of family love. The one we never actually expressed openly.