Help Me Remember My Grandma’s Life, Not Her Death

Do you remember my Grandma?

Maybe you can think of something I told you about her, maybe you were lucky enough to meet her, maybe you came to her funeral and feel like you know a little bit of her now.

You know that I lost her seven months ago, you know that we were best friends. You know that this time last year I was at home to be with her.

How do you live knowing you are going to die?

I never did ask her, but from living so close beside her for the last months of her life I would say that you never really accept it or understand the true meaning of the diagnosis. You forget about it. You wake up every morning thankful for what you have and you run with it. I organized her meds, drove her to appointments, met her many friends and sat in countless waiting rooms. None of this bothered me – this was my new normal. Doctors and nurses knew me by name. They thought it was so remarkable that an eighteen year old granddaughter was so involved, but it was never a question in my mind; every part of me told me that I had to be there.

I put my life on pause. When you know something tragic is going to happen nothing else in the world seems to matter. All I wanted was to be with my Grandma forever. Even when forever had counted days.

Fast forward one year.

Now it’s all I think about. Like a movie playing in the back of my mind: this time last year… We were at chemo. We were reading recipes and making grocery lists. I rode in the back of the ambulance holding her hand when she had a stroke. We were on our way to seniors discount day at the drug store. We were sitting at the dining room table scrapbooking.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it all ended. It was August instead of January. I was swimming in Port Dover instead of trekking through snow banks in Montréal. I was nineteen instead of eighteen. It was August 17^th 2014 and I no longer had my Grandma.

I know she didn’t want to break my heart. I know her last words to me were, “I love you.” I know she is proud of me and that she is watching over me, but I miss her.

I am still sad.

I am trying to move forward, but it’s hard. I will be backpacking Europe in two months; please don’t think that I will have moved on. She knew about the beginnings of my travel plans and she is the reason that I am following my dreams.  I am going to be away for her first death anniversary. I’ve never had an Easter dinner without her. I am turning twenty in a week and she won’t be helping me blow out the candles on my cake. Life does not stop just because my world was shattered.

Please understand that it’s okay to talk about her. It’s okay to cry, to smile, to laugh, to remember. Please help me remember.

Please help me remember my Grandma.

Too Damn Young