I do so like to have a routine. Even if our schedule is busy, there is some order and some routine amid the chaos. But now, there is no routine. There is no route to follow.

For so long my days were defined by halves. The afternoon and evenings were reserved for my children and my husband. My mornings became an easy blend of my own workout schedule, chores, grocery shopping, etc and whatever my grandmother needed that day. My shopping included her shopping. My laundry included her laundry. My drive to the gym included her daily wake up call. Then there were the days that I spent with her. Days I didn’t need to plan my lunch because I would she would want me to stay and split her lunch with me. Days when I knew she was over due for a haircut and I would bust out the curling iron and try desperately to make her hair curl just right over her ears. Days she was full of herself and amused by herself. Days when I filed and painted her fingernails, always in clear though, never wanting to draw attention to herself. Days when I knew I was going to end up sitting on the floor and clipping her toenails. Oh how she loved to ask me to clip her toenails and then would giggle when I put on my glasses to protect my eyes from the clippings. Days when I somehow knew her chocolate stash would be running low and I better stop and grab a bag just in case. Days when I knew her wine stash was nearing empty and I darn sure better make sure there was always an extra bottle on hand, just in case she had a guest you know. Days that her plants were watered. Days when we laughed until we cried and days when we cried because we didn’t know what else to do. That was my routine as a granddaughter. My daily route always led to her.

Now, my routine as a granddaughter has ended. Where does one travel from here? She found her destination that she wanted for so long. She knew the route she would follow from here to there and forever more. We discussed so much, but we neglected to discuss the route I would travel when our paths would split. A routine without a route is chaos. I just need to figure out how to make sense of the chaos and map my own new route, and maybe, just maybe, it will become routine.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, February 2013

Emmer’s 95th Birthday Bash