My granny was my best friend.

A year after losing my grandfather, I knew my granny's time was coming soon. I had prepared for the time she could be with my grandfather again. I told myself that I would be understanding, and that this is a part of life. No matter what I did to prepare, nothing was able to take that pain away when her time came.

A week went by, and I caught myself driving to her house, just to get there and realize that it was different. The house still had that smell that is familiar. I would sit in her chair, clinging to all I had left of my grandmother. The lady who had my back growing up. I will never begin to be able to thank those people who stepped in to have my back during this time. Friends, sisters, family. People that made life a little more bearable.

A month later, I felt miserable. At this point, all the family had gone home. Life was supposed to be back to normal. I would find myself in my truck crying because of the elderly lady in the van similar to one she drove was parked beside me. Little things would set me off, so I kept myself busy. I would paint sheet signs for nine hours straight or pick up extra shifts at work. As painful as it was, the initial shock was gone. It didn't seem like it at the moment, but things were getting better.

Six months later, and I could actually say her name. It felt like a breath of fresh air. This is the time we spent going through her things. All of the old records, clothes, recipes. Everything that made my granny who she was, were just things now. Then we started going through pictures. All of my childhood flashed before my eyes. My mind began to remember things that were pointless at the time, and then suddenly become special moments.

It has now been a year. Not a day has passed where something didn't make me think of her. These feelings have been a roller coaster. I find myself laughing more now. I smile when I think of her instead of getting that pit in my stomach. I go to her house occasionally, which has stayed in the family. It is different now, though. The rooms have been remodeled and painted. While the outside is familiar, this house is no longer a home to me. I look through pictures regularly, and I find myself wanting to know everything possible about my family history.

After a year full of changes, I feel at peace. At peace with knowing my grandmother is not physically with me. At peace with the fact that she won't be able to physically watch me be the first to graduate college, get married, or have kids. I say physically because I know she is still with me. I know she is at peace now, and that is all that matters to me.

ESD May 3, 1942 - April 14, 2015