My mind is still having trouble wrapping itself around the fact that you're gone.

No one ever thinks of life without someone who means the most to them. They don't picture life without their biggest cheerleader, the strongest supporter, or their greatest secret-keeper. They don't picture family Christmases and Thanksgivings with one less spot at the table. I didn't either until my grandma started to slow down, until she got sick.

To better explain, you need to understand the relationship that my grandmother and I had. I was fortunate enough to have grown up 100 yards down the road from my grandparents, lovingly known as Nana and Papa. I saw her every day until I left for college, and she sent me a letter every week (almost always arriving on Tuesday) until she started to slow down. She was my superhero. She taught me to be a young lady, encouraged me to be the best I can, provided tough love, painted fingernails, curled hair and offered more love than any single person I know. We were best friends. My grandmother was my partner in crime. I didn't think anything of it when she started to send fewer letters. Things had been stressful in my hometown, especially in the lives of my family, and I attributed it to this stress. She was invincible, and I never thought that anything bad could ever happen to her.

But it did.

She got sicker and sicker. Hospital visits and stays where more and more frequent.

And then there was an answer: cancer.

Treatment was going to be an option. Something that could slow it down and what was assumed to be able to give her a few more years of life.

Things went downhill quickly. She grew weaker and weaker, sicker and sicker. There was no way to stop my best friend from dying. The cancer grew worse day after day, and there was nothing anyone could do.

May 11, 2014 will forever be embedded in my brain, the day I lost my best friend. But also the day that I learned some of life's most valuable lessons.

Losing a grandparent isn't a foreign concept to most 20-somethings. It's heartbreaking, but it is true. It's a harsh reality of the crazy thing called life. Some of us are lucky enough to grow up down the street from our grandparents, and some may only see their grandparents on special occasions and holidays. Some of us don't even get to know them at all. But, whatever the case, loss is loss and we must all deal with it at some point in our life.

Whether expected or unexpected, the loss of a grandparent, or any family member, takes an emotional toll on everyone -- especially you. There are tears, hugs, and arguments. There are anger and grief-filled words. There is love. It's one of the hardest things I have ever gone through. There are no more letters. There are no more phone calls. There are no more perfectly organized cabinets, hidden antique shop treasures, or episodes of Jeopardy. There are no more pieces of toast cut into squares, sliced bananas, or big Christmas dinners. There are no more seasonal decorations, brightly colored flowers, or perfectly swept patios.

There is no more of what used to be.

It takes time to adjust and to come to terms with loss, and everyone progresses at their own speed. Some visit the cemetery every day, some never go at all. Some get rid of all of the items that remind them of their loved one, some leave things exactly where they belong. There is no timeline for grief. The pain gets easier, but it never goes away. It's inevitable that you will be sad. It's okay to be sad.

It's important to remember the memories that you've shared, but it's also important to continue to make new memories with those around you. Keep your traditions, honor your loved ones, but remember to always keep moving. Keep pushing forward.

My Nana will forever be apart of me. From the right shoulder "I love you more!" tattoo to the middle name. From the dark curly hair to the lessons I learned from all the days spent in front of the fire on the kitchen floor- my grandmother is always right there with me. I keep her picture carefully clipped above the driver's visor of my car, a reminder that I always have someone watching over me.

I love you so much, Nan. Thank you for being you, for making me who I am and for teaching me about life, love, and family.

This never was goodbye, it was see you later.