When even pears are tainted

Posted on

I went and saw Saving Mr. Banks the other day.

(Warning – a little bit of a spoiler ahead…)

At one point in the movie, the main character, Mrs Travers arrived at her hotel. There was a basket full of fruit to welcome her. She panicked when she noticed pears, grabbed them, and chucked them out the window into the pool below.

I laughed as I began to cry because I knew exactly why she couldn’t have pears in the room. I knew before the rest of the story was told.  Eventually we learned that her dad, on his death bed asked her for pears (in order to get her out of the house). But when she came back with the pears her daddy was already gone.

I wept through most of the movie as she recalled memories of her childhood. And how so much of her life was tainted by the horrible memories of losing her father.

I wept because I know the grief and despair she was experiencing.  I wept because I continue to experience things in my life that are tainted. And it frustrates me and overwhelms me. While it’s not pears, it’s other things that have become tainted since losing Mom and Dad.

Cherry Berry and Ruby Tuesday. Off limits. Cherry Berry was where our last family picture was taken.


It’s honestly a miracle that we even took that picture. We didn’t take many family pictures, mainly because with everyone’s work schedule we didn’t get many opportunities to all be together at the same time.

Ruby Tuesday was the last place I saw Mom. I wrote about that here. So for now, we don’t go to Cherry Berry and Ruby Tuesday. And most people think we are crazy, I’m sure.

Men with ponytails. My dad had a ponytail. Of course we teased him about it. And there weren’t many “older” guys who had ponytails. Until after they died. Then I saw men with ponytails everywhere. Older men that were graying and had mustaches. I hate men with ponytails. (No offense if you are one of them.)

“Papa.” The other day I was at a store and they had decorative pillows that said, “Papa.” And then it said stuff under that like, “story teller.” That’s as far as I got reading the pillow because the tears started to flow. You have no idea how close I was to destroying that pillow display. Like seriously throwing the pillows as hard as I could. Hahaha, that would have been a sight, huh?

Horses. Tonight I went into Angel’s room to tuck her in. She was sitting on her bed weeping. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she missed Grama Susie and Papa. A little bit later as she cried she also said how she missed Buck and Gracie so much. We might get horses out here on the farm some day. But for now it just hurts too much because we’re only reminded of the two horse lovers we lost.

Carbon monoxide detectors. That’s kind of a given, right? But I don’t think I could ever adequately describe how much I despise them. Granted, I’m glad we have one. But I try my hardest never to walk by it or look at it. For I fear I might grab a hammer and beat the crap out of it.

The list could go on and on. I’m sure that 98% of it is stuff that is silly and irrational. I”m sure that so many things I just need to let go of and release my grief and sorrow and anger to God.  And some days I do. But some days are harder than others.

A good friend of mine, one who experienced a horrible loss a few years ago, told me the other day that someone told her that they thought there were actually only two stages of grief. Shock and acceptance.

I think they are right. And I think we are still in shock.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s