Forever Loved, Never Forgotten

Grief and joy can sit together. Not that I want them to.
It is one of the hardest feelings I’ve had to face in my life.

I miss her so much.

One of the greatest, wisest woman I’ve ever known—my personal cheerleader, the one who truly took the time to know me as a child, to teen, to adult, to married and a mom—passed away last year. You can’t choose your family, but I am so grateful that I got to have a grandmother like her.

Every single day, I regret not being there when she passed.

Every. Single. Day.

It’s hard to forgive myself.

We’d just spent the month before traveling to visit both sides of our family for the holidays. My husband, Nora, the dogs (stayed home), and I were exhausted—emotionally, physically, and financially. Christmas 2023. I knew it might be the last time I’d see her. A stroke isn’t something you recover from easily, especially when they knew a second one could be coming. But I didn’t want to believe that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to her one last time.

I wanted to be there. I desperately wanted to be there. It felt like everyone else was. But I was told not to come, and after some time, I started to understand why.

My dad was facing one of the hardest, most vulnerable moments of his life. He was losing his mom—the woman who had been with him basically his entire life and he had a pretty great relationship with her.

My mom was losing her best friend, a person she loved, wanted to hang out with and spend time with more than anyone.
My grandpa was losing the love of his life, someone who you’ve built and shared a life with for even a short amount of time can weigh on you heavily.

My family doesn’t wear vulnerability easily. When something hurts so deeply, it feels like your guts are spilling out, and all you can do is hold the anger and sadness. It wasn’t just about me. I knew that.

I’m grateful I was kept in the loop as they processed everything in real time. I needed to know what was happening, and thankfully, my mom FaceTimed me instead of sending a text or making a quick call. All of my questions were answered and it was hard to hear.

Growing up, she was my confidant. My protector. She shielded me from so many things behind the scenes of my life. She was the one who set me straight when I needed it—especially in relationships that weren’t going anywhere. And she wasn’t afraid to call me out on my own crap.

Grandmas do that. They love you in such a unique and different way.

We owe so much to the meddling glue in our family. The one who always said, “I don’t want to get involved... but…” and then proceeded to get involved anyway. She gave advice I didn’t always want to hear but always needed. And even if we disagreed, she loved me anyway. Even if we went without talking as my life was getting busier, she loved me anyway.

It’s hard not writing emails to her anymore. It’s hard not calling. It’s hard not hearing how proud she is of me—how much she loves and is smitten by my husband—and how adorable she thinks our daughter is.

I wish Heaven had emails.

I wish I could tell her I’m sorry.
I wish I could tell her I love her and squeeze her one last time.
I wish I could thank her for helping raise me and for loving me unconditionally.

Maybe time moves differently in Heaven?

I hope there’s a Disney bench there, and that you’re sitting on it, gathering people around you, telling stories, and making everyone laugh.

Maybe you’re catching up with your brothers.
Maybe you’re reminding them all how much you broke the cycle—how you loved a granddaughter so much that she’s paying it forward to her own child.

I’m sure you’ve run into my father-in-law too. A wonderful kind, man, who loved his kids so much and waited until his son came home until he was ready to be in Heaven only a few short months later. I can picture the two of you sitting together, talking about how amazing your kids and grandkids are.

Save me a seat on that bench for when I’m ready to see you.
Until we hug again.
I love you.

Xoxo