My Grandmother.....

The tears are falling gently in a pitter patter as I sit and write this.  They fell softly and quietly last night too.  I'm not even sure if my husband noticed.  He did notice that I was quite, that I didn't want to talk, and he wanted to talk and chatter and bubble - and was frustrated by my lack of engagement.  But the collision of days on top of my pain and the continued journey through hell is just too much some days.

The opening games were marked with tragedy, as a young 21 year old luge athlete from Georgia was killed on the track.  Of which, NBC decided to run the footage, not once but multiple times in their kick-off features for the opening ceremonies.  To watch a young athlete be slammed to his death at 80+ mph into a concrete support beam that had no padding, nothing to prevent him from flying into these deadly walls...thankfully he was gone just as quickly as you saw it happen.  It was simply, horrifying, and I have yet to understand why it was shown over many times - and in slow motion.  To see him laid out, bloodied was just in such poor taste.  We have we become as a society.

I nearly walked away and chose to not watch the coverage, but I wanted to try to do it.  I was interested for the first time in years.  As I settled in with my glass of wine, I was enthralled by the native american dancers - I love that they incorporated all of the tribes from all 12 providences.  Their tribal costumes were outstanding, their movements breath taking.... and it took me back so quickly it nearly gave me whip lash.

I remember back to the Salt Lake City game.  My grandmother had fallen ill and was hospitalized - nothing serious, it was being taken care of.  She loved the winter Olymics and was falling it carefully - had it highlighted in her tv guide - and had already told all of the nurses that her grand-daughter was a figure skater.  That I no longer competed due to a nasty injury, but I did coach!  She loved the opening ceremonies from Salt Lake City.  She has Cherokee blood lines - and is very proud of that.  She was so happy that they highlighted our Native tribes and was thrilled with the native dancing and costuming!  I can remember that conversation, hear her voice in my ear like it was yesterday.

She took a turn for the worse around the pairs event..the doctors were un sure what was happening.  My mom was with me.  Earlier my Dad had come down, shown up on my doorstep when she initially went into the hospital, and I went up with him - just threw some clothes together and jumped in his car.  They didn't want me to make the trek by myself - knowing that I would cry and most likely speed the entire way.  My mom and I had decided to go back to my apartment in the city to get some fresh clothes that made more sense than the attire that I had packed, pick of some things that I needed and turn around the following day.  Gram appeared to be stable, and it seemed like the best time to make the trip...things had leveled out.

As my mom and I laid in my little bed- I had a loft apartment at the time - it was blustery and oh so cold out, but my little brown stone apartment was a very warm little apartment.  We laid for hours, talking about her, laughing...sometimes crying...but feeling a bit better.  We agreed what time to leave the next day, and tried to get some sleep.  Around 2 a.m. the phone in my apartment rang - it was the hospital calling.  They had done everything they could - she had passed.

That was February 13, 2006.  I miss her just like it was yesterday.  I still slip up sometimes and find myself going to call her when I need to talk to her - good or bad - I still need her.  I can still see her hands -she has the softest, kindest hands- and she'd squeeze mine just before I'd go out to compete and give me a wink - "Good luck  shug"  She was my confident, my advocate, my biggest cheerleader, my everything for the longest time  My gram always had my back.  She was my rock and my stable support.  I spent countless weekends at her house.  I'd fly off the school bus on Friday, running with my backpack flapping up the hill - so that I could be ready to jump in her car when she'd pick me up!  We'd eat pizza, watch movies, I'd drink sparkling apple juice out of her champagne glasses, wear all of her jewelry, watch Johnny Carson & Murder She Wrote together...We did everything and had a blast doing it!!

It may sound crazy...but she visits me in my dreams.  I don't dream about her - but she visits me - we talk, she is there - I know she is dead -she acknowledges it and we both know that the dream is just our meeting point.  I miss the tangible her like crazy...but until I complete what I'm suppose to do with this life, I adore when she come to visit me in my dreams. And some how she knows just when I need her the most.  Although sometimes it is just a visit for no reason at all...

I miss you Ole Gram!!

 

Me and Gram on the boat

 

 My best friend, my gram :)

Winter Olympics...love & curses

The opening ceremonies were marred by a tragedy as a young luge

athlete from Georgia was killed earlier that day. I nearly didn't

tune in simply because of that fact. Why? Because you see, my

beloved Winter Olympics are cursed. For me at least.  For as long back as my mind can stretch, I have adored the Winter Olympics. I have watched my beloved figure skaters twirl, jump and on wings of artistry- although not always as artistic as we would like - skate to their dreams!  I would also watch the hockey with my dad and brother, the skiing -I loved the ski jump and the aerials!- luge, well, really pretty much every sport!  I would find myself fascinated as to what this sport curling was all about.  I never really got that into it, however come the Winter Olympics, I was cheering on Team USA - all the while wondering how on earth one gets into a sport like that!  

I would sit memorized by the tv, dreaming that one day, I would be that girl in front of the audience - so graceful yet powerful.  The girl that puts together the perfect program, the one that leaves your breathless at the end - with a huge smile on your face as your collapse in your deep curtsy and the crowd leaps to their feet and you just know, you just know! THAT WAS IT!!    You couldn't have skated cleaner, better, more perfect!  In my mind - as I'm sure many little girls minds, I dreamed my dreams of standing on the medal podium, accepting my flowers and medal, watching the stars and stripes rise in the arena as they play are anthem.  

For years, I would wait in anticipation of the Winter games.  And then, something changed.  It would be the XVIII Winter Olympics in Nagano Japan...1998.  February.  Some of you readers friends may notice something familiar about that month and year...  That is the month and year that my world changed forever -and not in a good way.  That was the month my ankle got blown apart...the beginning of the end really.  The RSD didn't set in until I woke up from surgery - which they weren't even able to do until months later....I was in a cast for months while they tried to get the bones settled and stable.  I just remember the pairs short that year.  And that's all I remember.  I don't remember anything beyond that....

The XIX Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City...are quite frankly a loss to me.  I could not tell you anything about those games.  I know that my Ole Gram and I talked of the opening ceremonies...and then, she passed away during the games.  And suddenly my greatest cheerleader, top supporter and on of my best friends in the world was ripped out of my life.  

I made it through the game in Tourino...but I can't help but watch these Vancouver games on a knifes edge.  Because...well, they don't seem to like me.  And I don't like loss.  There has been too much of it.