I Miss Her

(a bunch of thoughts...)

It's been 3 weeks and 2 days since she left us and I still can't believe it.
Last night was her memorial service in Las Vegas. It was beautiful and sad and happy.
There came a point during the video memorial that my aunt made for her that I wished I was in a room alone so that I could lay on the floor and cry.
But, I was surrounded by my grandma's family and friends and I felt it necessary to hold myself together.
I've been doing that for weeks now.
I think seeing my cousin cry before the funeral started reminded me, "Hey, it's your grandma's funeral. It's okay to cry."
That should be obvious but I have felt like I need to be strong because no one else has been showing their sad side.
But I don't know if I'm going to choose to be that strong anymore.
She was my precious, dear grandma. She loved me fiercely. I loved her fiercely.
I tried to always make a point to stay close with my grandparents. Even when I didn't live near them (which was most of my life), even when I had 14 million other things to do. I cherished them . And that's not to say I'm so great or deserve an award, it's just perhaps a reminder to you to cherish the grandparents in your life. To make time for them. Because their generation is the greatest generation.
I loved hearing my grandma's stories, I loved giggling with her on the phone.
This morning as we were getting ready to drive back home from Las Vegas, I thought I heard my grandma's voice downstairs. I got excited and in a split second remembered.
She's gone.
Brett thought he heard her too.
My mom has had a couple great dreams about her.
I want to dream about her too. I want to talk to her again and hug her again and kiss her.
<cue the ugly cry>
I want so bad to look across the dinner table Christmas Eve and catch her eye and smile.
I want to pick up the phone and call her and make her laugh.
I want to write her more letters. I want her to be able to write back.
I want to play Skip-Bo with her.
I want to walk downstairs in the morning at my parent's house and have her offer me cereal or toast and I want to see her disapproving look when I tell her I am not hungry.
I want to see her loving on Neely, her great-granddaughter.
I want to see the love in her eyes for my grandpa, her husband of 55 years.
I miss her. I miss her. I miss her.
There is a void in my life. I think I will notice it more and more as the days and weeks pass by.
Obviously this is selfish because she's happier now than I can imagine, but I miss her.
I think I'm still a bit shocked that she's actually gone. The day before her stroke she was here. She was okay.
I am lucky because I have no regrets about her. I always knew she was proud of me and thought I was wonderful and beautiful.
She never had a cross word with me.
This weekend I found letters I had written her that she saved. She didn't save them all, only some, but in one I wrote, "I think that if you and I were the same age we would have been good friends." And it's true.

Oh my grandma, I miss you terribly. I always will.

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