Memories from Clemson: A Journey of Family and Loss

Going to my grandmother’s house in Clemson was a staple in my life until the end of last year. My first memory of Clemson does not include being in the house. I remember sitting in my car seat. I must have been seated on the right side because I could see through the door that led to the kitchen. I saw my parents inside, and I didn’t understand why I had been left in the car. To be clear, I wasn’t in the car very long; it’s possible that just my dad went in and my mom stayed with me. I remember being upset that at least one parent had gone in without me, and I began crying to get their attention, and I was taken out of my car seat and into the house. My next memory is seeing my grandpa reaching for my brother or me. He was very ill with Parkinson’s, and I remember being afraid of the wheelchair. He was dressed neatly in a button-down shirt and wearing his square-framed glasses.
If we skip ahead to my next memory, we were at my grandpa’s memorial service. I remember not understanding why my dad and grandma were on stage. I wanted Dad to be with me, not on the stage, so I deployed my favorite weapon: my vocal cords. I know that Dad did not come off the stage; instead, I was removed from the sanctuary of the Unitarian Fellowship and taken to the nursery. I oddly found burnt on gunk in a small bowl or pan in the nursery. I believe I pointed this out to my mother. My first memories of Clemson involved seeing someone close to death and attending their celebration of life service. As I got older, Clemson began to have more positive memories. I would go up and spend the weekend with my grandmother. There wasn’t much to do there, but seeing her was always worth it.
I knew when I got the phone call regarding her rapid deterioration and left work early to see her, this would likely be my last visit to Clemson with grandma alive. I’m very familiar with the drive to Clemson up I-85 North. As a young child, I started making the journey and enjoyed seeing some landmarks stay the same. There’s a farm where the barn color has gone from red to dark blue. The rolling hills and trees are on either side of the highway. Crossing over Lake Hartwell has consistently signaled that I’m not far from my destination, and I’ve watched the water levels rise and fall over the years. Growing up, we had made the journey in one of the many minivans we had as a family. We would all load into the van and go to dinner with my grandmother and aunt. We would do this at least once every two months or so.
Last weekend, I made the drive back to Clemson for the first time since Grandma had passed away. My dad and I didn’t take the traditional route, as they have since moved. I wasn’t expecting the grief to overtake me as I started to recognize landmarks, stop lights, and restaurants. This place had once felt warm and familiar, but now, without my grandmother, it felt hollow, less welcoming. We met my aunt for lunch and then drove back as we all had work the following day. As we went back to my parents’ house, the grief was mixed with something else: peace.
I felt and still feel so grateful that I have so many positive memories associated with Clemson. As a family, we got to eat at many good restaurants, see a beautiful campus, and spend time together in a beautiful southeast area. I’m also very excited to see what places I’ll make new memories in. I look forward to where I’ll have my babies and raise them. The future family vacations I will take with loved ones and new favorite hangouts that I’ll discover with friends. Clemson was the backdrop for my first important lesson regarding how death is just as much a part of life as being born. Then, I learned the importance of family, laughter, love, and the power of sharing a meal. The final lesson it helped give me was that I’m strong enough to deal with loss. I’ll take these lessons with me and look forward to my future lessons and destinations.