Change is a peculiar thing. Spaces can become smaller with a new color on the walls. People can become strangers with a new distance placed between you. One of the biggest and most unexpected leaps life can take is the loss of a loved one.

Suddenly, there is a void. It can be microscopic at first as the shock finds a way to resonate with you, or it can be overwhelmingly commanding all at once. Whatever the case may be, it is OK to feel like you might never get used to it.

I lost my Yiayia (Greek translation for Grandmother) this past year. It was one of the biggest blows to my overall being that I have ever experienced. When I think of Yiayia, I think of comfort. I think of her big red couch that we watched an obscene amount of Hallmark movies on. I think of her warm hands and how they yearned for other hands to hold whenever you sat close to her.

I think of her reassuring spirit and love that positively beamed out of her whenever one of her five grandchildren walked into the room. Most importantly I think of her humor- here's where it stops being sappy.

Athena Kerhoulas (aka Yiayia) had the most incredible sense of humor. She told the jokes of an 18-year-old boy and shook her entire body with laughter every time she made the whole room cackle- and she always did. She would never let you leave out the juicy details of whatever story she was telling, but you would always rush through them just to hear her advice about it all afterward. Her filter was nonexistent and her expletives were endless. She was fearless in what she had to say and somehow maintained a timeless class throughout her entire life.

Just like most grandmothers, she would never, ever let you go hungry. My childhood nights spent at her house consisted of midnight bowls of Froot Loops and marshmallows by the fire. She was the only adult who would let us make brownies around bedtime and stick our fingers in the batter for a taste test.

The bottom line is- Yiayia was always there. She didn't care what the subject matter was. She didn't care how long the story was or how insignificant it seemed in the grand scheme of things. She didn't care if you had three blankets on top you already, she would always cover you up with hers. Most notably, she didn't care how high the kiss count was for the day- she was always "collecting."

I will never stop missing her-that I know for sure. I feel like I need her now more than I ever have in this season of my collegiate life, and although I know she is always with me I still crave more of her. It is easier some days than others, but it is something we all have to take in stride. The change that losing a loved one brings to your life is nothing you can adequately prepare for. It isn't a plan you can create years ahead of time.

It's something you deal with, not something you have to be okay with. It can get pretty freaking hard, but we are doing the damn thing. There is comfort in the cliche that our loved ones never truly leave us. We will see them all again one day in a place that far surpasses this one- we just have to go easy on ourselves. It is truly OK to miss someone forever.