Hi, friends. I’ll preface this by saying that this is super personal and a 1 and 2 am rambling that I maybe shouldn’t be posting but feel like I should, it just feels right. This will technically mean I’m doubling posting today because before I wrote this instead of sleeping, I wrote a top 5 Wednesday post.
Anyways, this is kind of sad and emotional and personal and it’s so totally okay if you want to click off and not read it. I just felt the need to post it.
Also this is pretty raw and unedited, so ignore any errors whoops.
My grandmother and I were super close. She was in the hospital room when I was born, telling my mom seconds after I’d been born that I looked like my dad (something that my mom wasn’t the most amused about after hours of labor). She was there on my 1st birthday, concerned about how messy I would get if my parents just let me shove my hand into the cake. She was there when I was three to pick me up from the babysitter (which she deemed not good enough for her grandchild and promptly made my mom find a new babysitter). She was there for so many “Friday nights at granny’s” where she would let me stay up way too late, eat whatever I wanted, and let me control the TV. She was there for my first day of middle school, driving me to school because I didn’t want to ride the bus for the first day. She was there for so many Sunday night dinners and camping trips. She was there for my high school graduation, even hosting my graduation party in her backyard. She was there to move me into college despite the fact that physically she wasn’t in the best shape to be doing so. She was there as much as she could be while I was there, answering every phone call and sending gift cards and way too much food in that way grandmother’s do. She was there when I called and told her I didn’t want to go back to that college, telling me that the only thing in the world that mattered was that I was happy.
She was there for all of these things and more. But she’s not here anymore, not in the way she was. And she never will be again.
This is something I haven’t processed yet and I won’t for a long time. It happened two states away while I was completely oblivious, going about my morning taking care of her dogs and teaching Sunday school for my mother. My world changed in a way I still don’t quite understand after I went home from church and my mom came out of the living room and just looked at me and started sobbing before she told me. I didn’t take it well. My cousin was there and he had to leave because he couldn’t handle my reaction. My dad hasn’t shed a tear until he saw me. My mom and I held each other and cried for what felt like forever but I know from text message timing couldn’t have been more than 25 minutes.
The two days since then have felt like two months. We’ve gotten so many text messages, probing questions, a pizza, a loaf of zucchini bread, and so much more. But we haven’t gotten closure. And we won’t for a long time. No one knows what’s happening or what’s going to happen and today my aunt and grandfather return home for the first time since it happened. My grandmother’s urn returns home. Today is going to be hard, harder than Sunday because I am going to see my grandfather, the man who has been a solid rock my entire life, upset and broken as he comes back to the house and life he’s shared for more than fifty years without his other half.
I cannot find the words to do my grandmother justice. She was such a special woman who touched so many people’s lives. She has a super special place in my heart now and always.
Moving on from this will be hard. Processing it fully will be even harder. Seeing my brave grandfather who got through the murder and following trial of his only son, his oldest child, without shedding a tear broken in the way my aunt described him will most likely be something I never get over. However, all of these are things I will have to do. I will get through this. We all will. It will just take time and most likely a lot of tears.