I have good days. I have bad days. Regardless, it’s never a matter of not thinking about you, Grandmom.
No matter how much time has passed since the last time we were together, the memory of you haunts me in everything I do. Smiles, tears, hugs, laughs … the memories flood forward, triggered by the smallest pieces of my present reality.
Of course I cried when I had to say goodbye, despite fighting back the waterworks in the weeks prior. I had been told that “getting it all out” would ensure that eventually there would be an end to the nights spent flipping through old photos and waking up the next morning with puffy Avatar eyes.
More than a year later, I still have those nights. And mornings. And even afternoons on days where it hits me that yes, you really are gone.
On those days, I sometimes smile knowing that you would make fun of me for being this emotional, especially because you never let anyone see you cry. In fact, I only saw you cry once, when the pain was just too much to handle. You never wanted me to see you like that … you didn’t even want me to come to any of your appointments. That day, the one and only appointment your “Special Rachael” ever attended, was the day that I finally understood what true heartbreak felt like.
Despite the hurt that your own pain brought me, I am so glad that I was there that day. Seeing you break down that one time in my entire 20 years of existence validated a fact that I already knew: you are one of, if not the, strongest women that I have ever met.
I still reread your emails and letters checking in at school, praising me for different accomplishments and reminding me to be nice to my little sisters (still working on that one). Come to think of it, I think it is that very recognition and encouragement that keeps your loss still so fresh and raw in my heart.
In everything I do, I think of you. I think of what your opinion would be regarding decisions I have made. I think about whether or not I am making you proud. I think about whether or not you were beside me in some of my most recent obstacles. I think of you every time I look at my mom.
You were my best bud, my personal camerawoman, and my teacher (thanks for feeding my chocolate addiction when I correctly recited the ABC’s … and documenting that - alongside a majority of my temper tantrums). While you are no longer here with me physically, those roles are still active: perhaps more active than ever.
Since you’ve passed, you have taught me so many things; probably unintentionally.
You showed me what it means to fight, what it means to fight because you know your family isn’t ready to lose you. You showed me how to “grin and bear it,” somehow finding happiness even when you no longer had your dignity and need to rely on others to take care of you. You showed me what unconditional love and joy your family can bring you, and how your mom really is your best friend. You showed me what an amazing, inspiring woman, mom and grandmom looks like.
Most importantly, you showed me that with your belief behind me, I can do anything I set my mind to. If I’m lucky, I may even become at least half the sweet, compassionate, beautiful woman you are.
Going forward, I have accepted that at times, I will cry. And even though you would make fun of me for doing so, it’s okay because I guess that’s just what I need to do. I will continue to think of you whenever I reach a new milestone, whenever I get into an argument with Emily over clothes or Hannah over how she is the new favorite child. Hey, we’re sisters; we have to fight at least a little bit.
Don’t worry. Someday I will get to fill you in on everything in some other place, some other time. I’ll continue to live my life loving you, missing you and looking forward to when we meet again.
Love,
Your “Special Rachael”
