This has been the longest and shortest month of my life. Two weeks ago, I posted about losing my Grandfather. In addition to suddenly losing him, we also lost my Grandmom this past Wednesday, this loss was even more unexpected. To know they are with the ones they love and that they are not suffering anymore is reassuring, but it doesn’t make me miss them any less.
I am so thankful that I was able to see my Grandmom one last time, two weeks ago. She patted my belly, and told me I looked good (even though she had been telling me not to get too fat!) She was always telling me not to get pregnant, right after I got married, because Jim was away at Basic and then at AIT for 9 + months. She would say, “Don’t you get pregnant, Rosie!” And I’d say, “Grandmom, Jim isn’t here, I can’t get pregnant!” This happened every time I saw her. So when I got pregnant, it was a big joke. I asked Grandmom if it was okay that I was pregnant, and she said yes, but not to get too fat. So today after my glucose test, which wasn’t nearly as bad (or bad at all) as everyone made it out to be, I ate a donut. Sorry, Grandmom!
Every day that we have here on this earth is truly a gift. I can not stress that enough. Always, always tell the people you care about that you love them. You never know when it’ll be the last time you have the chance to.
Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone. It isn’t just death we have to grieve. It’s life. It’s loss. It’s change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That’s how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can’t breathe, that’s how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won’t feel this way. It won’t hurt this much. Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can’t control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes. And let it go when we can. The very worst part is that the minute you think you’re past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away. There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us, but there are always five. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. – Grey’s Anatomy