Loss

I went to the basement to hang some laundry that had just finished spinning in the machine. Tough job. The textiles were still lukewarm. As I reached up to hang the large white cloth on the laundry strings (?), I realised that this is the first time I've washed the bedlinen that was my grandmother's.

I suddenly realised that I'd washed away the smell of safety and known places, of a human I always knew, all my life. It felt morbid in the beginning, when I first put the linen on the bed - but soon the smell lulled me to sleep so peacefully every night that I didn't stop to think or analyse it. I just loved it.

Now the linen smells like me, the detergent I've used sine I moved away from home and a little bit of cold basement. Does that mean that the security I used to extract from the 'old' smell, I have to find that somewhere else?

Some days ago, I flicked through my contacts on my phone to call my parents. I stopped frozen at 'mormor'. It hit me like a ton of something really heartbreaking that I will never try to avoid picking up when it's her again, I will never have to lie myself busy just to hear her say 'don't let me disturb' - I will never have that warm feeling in my stomach when I hang up after she's told me of her girlfriends, her dinner with the Church Crew, her worries of not being able to sleep for 'all them thoughts'. That special feeling I get when I'm there for someone; when I ignore most of what they tell me (because it's something I know nothing of) and focus on the fact that they're here to tell me. She's gone.

My grandmother. I had so many many arguments with her. I had so many thoughts and fights with her. I had so many laughs with her and about her. But mostly - she knew me, I knew her - all my life. And now she's gone.