I know it is ridiculous seeing as she passed on December 15th and I chose not to go to her funeral. But it still hurts so much. I know her story, how she met my Pop and came to the States to marry him. Pop used to call for her and the neighbors would say "how sweet! They've been married so long but he still calls 'oh love! oh love!'" He wasn't calling "oh love", he was calling "Olaf!" the name she had when he met her. He used to also say "lowel". I can't explain how to say it unless you are here to hear me. But he was calling for "Lal", the short hand for Lalla, the name she took legally when she came to this country. Lalla is the nickname for Olaf in Iceland apparently.
I lost Pop when I was 12 or 13. I remember that day. I had on these linen pants with stripes. My mom's friend picked Teacher and me up from school and we wanted to know why. We wanted to know why she was bringing us to Ammy's house. Mom's friend gave us ambiguous answers. But we got to Ammy's house and I saw Mom on the couch and I knew. I remember wanting to run away. I don't know where but I wanted to just run away from it so that it couldn't be real.
Today I don't even want to run because I'm no longer a child and I know I can't. Ammy isn't anywhere. She isn't going to make me sugar cookies, she isn't going to mend my baby dolls after the dogs rip them apart, she isn't going to make cookie bars, crab cakes, crepes, or anything that Teacher enjoyed so much. She isn't going to do any of those things ever again.
I truly am happy that she is at peace. But, selfishly, I fucking hate that I don't have her anymore.I actually apologized to someone today. They told me, upon hearing the news of Ammy's death, that their daughter was going to be sad. I basically said "Tell your daughter to talk to me about sad". I apologized because I finally realized, after all these years, that I never owned Ammy. She wasn't just mine and many people loved her. And I'm glad for that, I truly am.
I just find it hard to accept that other people got to have her without asking. Because she was MY Ammy. She was mine. And now she is gone and I don't have her anymore.
I lost Pop when I was 12 or 13. I remember that day. I had on these linen pants with stripes. My mom's friend picked Teacher and me up from school and we wanted to know why. We wanted to know why she was bringing us to Ammy's house. Mom's friend gave us ambiguous answers. But we got to Ammy's house and I saw Mom on the couch and I knew. I remember wanting to run away. I don't know where but I wanted to just run away from it so that it couldn't be real.
Today I don't even want to run because I'm no longer a child and I know I can't. Ammy isn't anywhere. She isn't going to make me sugar cookies, she isn't going to mend my baby dolls after the dogs rip them apart, she isn't going to make cookie bars, crab cakes, crepes, or anything that Teacher enjoyed so much. She isn't going to do any of those things ever again.
I truly am happy that she is at peace. But, selfishly, I fucking hate that I don't have her anymore.I actually apologized to someone today. They told me, upon hearing the news of Ammy's death, that their daughter was going to be sad. I basically said "Tell your daughter to talk to me about sad". I apologized because I finally realized, after all these years, that I never owned Ammy. She wasn't just mine and many people loved her. And I'm glad for that, I truly am.
I just find it hard to accept that other people got to have her without asking. Because she was MY Ammy. She was mine. And now she is gone and I don't have her anymore.
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