Goodness, it hurts to even type that sentence. It hurts even more to say it aloud. It hurts every time I realize this is REAL, it isn't a dream.
Sure, my Gran was blessed with 85 years on this earth but that just isn't enough. Call me selfish, but it's how I feel. I'm not naive. I know people don't live forever but for some reason I thought this lady was immortal. My cousin Jerry put it best when he said, "This isn't supposed to be us. We aren't supposed to go through this. This happens to everyone else, not us." Did we feel like we were above suffering loss? No, we were just extremely blessed. No one in our immediate family tree had passed away since my Uncle Artis in the early 80's. Imagine going through your entire life with your closest family present for every holiday, birthday and family function. This time our matriarch was gone. The necessary piece of our family puzzle... missing.
It feels like it's been years since she's been gone. It hasn't even been 6 months. I cry every time I go to DeRidder. Every, single time. Do you know how hard it is to pass the back road to her house and not make it my first stop? Then there are the times when I forget she isn't there and think to myself, "I can't wait to stop and see Gran." Those times are even tougher than others because I feel ignorant for forgetting she's gone and that ignites even more tears.
It's tough going to see my Papa, because he's still here and I'm so thankful for that, but it's hard to see her chair empty. It's hard to not hear her on the phone when I walk in and her telling the person on the other line, "I have to go, my granddaughter is here." It's hard walking in and not asking her what she cooked that day. Or her not letting me leave without something in my hand... Fresh vegetables, a piece of cake she's baked, clothes that she thought I would like... I always left with something.
Now I realize that although I don't have those tangible things, I have an enormous amount of memories. I had so much fun with my Gran. We cooked a lot, she taught me so much. We would talk at least once a week on the phone. Always sharing our meals and getting ideas from each other. I remember one time I made some smothered cabbage. I told her it was good but it was too spicy and I was going to have to figure out how to fix it next time. Without hesitation she told me, "Why didn't you just put a little sugar in it? That would have made it even out just fine." My mind was blown because I didn't even think to do it but she had the answer immediately. Now I find myself thinking who's going to help me when I have those little problems in the kitchen?
I'm really trying to focus on how blessed I am to even share these memories. I'm also blessed that I had a real relationship with her. I truly enjoyed spending my time with her. If I'm being honest, I feel a little guilty. The night before she passed away, I had a terrible dream. I actually dreamed that she died. I woke up in the middle of the night scared. It was horrible. I told my husband about the dream 1 hour before she actually passed away. When I got the news that she was gone, I was so mad at myself because I didn't call her that day. I should've called her that morning. Why didn't I call her that morning? Why?
Gran always prepared us for her leaving this place. She always talked about death. Actually her and Papa. They always told us they wouldn't be around forever. She talked about her wishes. She was prepared. We listened but we weren't prepared. My heart really hurts and I'm guaranteed to cry at least once a week, mostly on Sundays.
I just miss her and always will.
