Missing you.

I still find it difficult to come to terms that you've been gone for six months now. It's been half of a year; 181 days that I haven't been able to call you or see you or tell you how my life has been going or ask you how yours has been. Is your back still bothering you? Are you free for a movie on Friday? Do you have plans to play Bridge with your friends tomorrow? Do you want to come over for dinner and see how I've done the place up?

But I can't ask you any of these things. I couldn't ask you to attend my graduation ceremony from the University you basically put me through, loan free. I couldn't ask you what you wanted for your 81st birthday. I couldn't ask you how your trip to Europe went. I couldn't ask you if your surgery went well.  I couldn't ask how you were feeling after being released from the hospital.

Because you never left.

All I could say to you was "Happy Valentine's Day." And all I could ask you was if your food was okay, or if the book you were reading was any good. And all I could tell you was that everyone was telling me to take care of dad if and when you passed. And all you could ask me in response was, "Well, then who is going to take care of you?"

Hearing about the death of a loved one is terrible. Experiencing the death of a VERY CLOSE loved one (practically a parent) is even worse. But watching that close, loved one die right in front of you is unbearable. Knowing that if I had waited for someone to come get me from Columbia to bring me back to Rock Hill because I was too hysterical, that you would've been gone by the time I arrived is unforgivable.

But none of this matters when it comes down to it. You never wasted any time in your life doing something that made you anything less than happy. You showered me with so much love. You were one of my best friends, and you were all mine. Not many children get the privilege of have a grandparent all to themselves. Although I can wait to see you again, I look forward to when we are reunited. I love you and miss you so much, grandma.