'Tis the season

Standing in the return/exchange line at Walmart is like pulling out your own fingernails. It's always obscenely long and the people in the line are weirder than Mr. Bean. Today was a little different though. I went to Wally-world to pick up Christmas picture cards and to return an extra set of Christmas lights we didn't need. As soon as I walked in the door I was bombarded with "Welcome to Walmart. Is that a return? This is the line." And I became instantly frustrated with a little old lady holding onto a walker with a seat wearing a pin that says 'Ask about our layaway.' I felt bad for this frustration because she was simply doing her job, but I was frustrated non-the-less. More so with Walmart itself and the fact that they force these people to do that. She gave me a sticker for my return and I started to walk away. She then proceeds to say "No, you have to go to this line." I told her "I'm going to go pick up my pictures and then I'll be back." She said "okay" in a very unbelieving tone. I walk to the back of Walmart, past the Christmas candy, to pick up the pictures, pay for them, and then I walk back to the front to stand in the long line. She didn't remember me when I came back. She asked if it was a return. I said yes. She then proceeds to pull off another sticker. I said "you already gave me a sticker" and she says "I did? Oh, okay" and sticks the pink, ink marked sticker to her hand, next to the other two. She's forgotten before.

As I'm standing in line this couple comes in behind me with a Singer sewing machine that had parts missing, so they were exchanging it. They start talking with the older lady and we discover that she still has her very first sewing machine (the metal one, that's on it's own table), she will be 86 in March and she lost her husband this past year. She then proceeded to say, while fighting back tears that she knows she can't let out while at work, that this is the hardest time without him since their baby is in Texas. She has no one here. She said she's lonely, especially these days. I had to look away, and stare at the opposite wall, because I was fighting back tears.

If you know anything about me, you know that I tear up when I see homeless people with dogs sitting on the curb, and I tear up when Dobby dies in Harry Potter and I especially tear up when I can feel passion and heart from another person. I rarely fully cry because I always tell myself to stop. My mom calls it my bleeding heart. I care too much. But that's not what made me tear up.

What made water swell in my eyes is that I haven't talked to my mother's parents in a year. My very own Gradparents. My Grandpa is in a nursing home because he has dementia. He doesn't remember me. He barely remembers my mom. My Grandma goes to see him almost everyday, but his memory for her is quickly fading. As I write this tears are falling down my cheeks because the thought of her being lonely for the holidays is something my heart can't bear. I wish I could see her, and hug her, and have her make me pea salad with cheddar cheese cubes and relish. I miss her. I miss her smell. I miss her warmth. I wish I could be with her. Unfortunately, I can't. I was thinking today about money (psh, whats new) and how I get paid biweekly. All, and I mean ALL, of my money goes to bills. The last thing I bought for myself was my purse and that was two months ago, because my other one was being held together by a safety pin, but I'm not doing this to rant about not having money because I have lots to be grateful for (read Make You Feel My Love for a complete overview).

I wanted to write this particular blog to simply say, love those around you. Tell them you love them. Be with them. Talk to them. Hug them. Sounds corny, but you never know when they wont be there. As a kid you think you'll have your family forever and you'll always be together, especially around the holidays. As you get older, that becomes harder for all parties in the equation.

Death is a hard concept to grasp. I'm not even close to understanding it and moving on. It's a little naive and childish, but I have yet to be faced with it. The fact that once you die you are no longer conscious; you don't think, breath, speak or feel baffles me. How is that possible? To not be able to express my feelings on a blog? Or to a person? Or see the colors of a daffodil in springtime or smell pine trees in the winter? What's harder is when someone else dies and you can no longer see, speak to or hear them. Again, it's something a little to big for my heart to bear.

Love those you're with. Share with them your memories. Make memories with them. You'll never regret it, especially when you're 86 working in the return line at Walmart talking to an older couple and a 22 year old girl with the world ahead of her.

<3