It's been 3 years. Today.
I remember in the very first days, my prayer was that the physical pain would go away. When the tidal wave of grief would come, it felt like I was suffocating. I had no control. I could do nothing but sink into the wave...and cry. There was nothing I could say or do or think that would make things better.
I had to let time continue moving.
I remember after a few weeks had gone by, my prayer was that I wouldn't think about her the moment I woke up. It was so incredibly hard to see nothing but her sweet face, her blue eyes, white hair and that amazing purple cowboy hat that she wore everyday to work as the very first image in my mind before I even opened my eyes. Again...there was nothing that I could physically do to make things better.
Just let time continue moving.
It's been three years since I received the phone call that my grandma had died. I was told that she was not alone when she died...and that she was not in any pain having made it to the hospital in time. I was told that the brain aneurism could not have been predicted and there was nothing that could have been done.
She had been getting ready for work (she sold solar panels at Friedman's); Prepping her lunchbox, curling her hair and making sure that she had as much purple clothing on as possible. She had already watered her amazing garden, spoke to Jesus (probably reminding him that the 49er's needed to win) and had read her horoscope. She was 87. And she was gone.
I was so confused. I had a trip all planned to see her in a few weeks. We had so much to catch up on.
Since I was a little girl, my grandma Uffda was everything to me. She and I would spend time every summer together, every holiday together. She would spend hours teaching me how to make apple pie, how to sew, how to plant a garden (even though she finally admitted that I did not have her green thumb), how to speak my mind and how to be independent. She lived a life that was full of adventure, love, heartache, endurance, patience and family.
It's been 3 years and I miss her everyday. The waves are less but the scars are still there. The grief is an uphill battle and I know I am not done.
Today is a hard day. My heart hurts.
She was a beautiful woman and I know she is even more beautiful now. I jump at the day when I get to see her again and I know without a doubt that she is proud of me. She was always proud of me.
And I will always be proud of her.
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