I'm not the first person in the world to lose someone. I know that. But to those of you who haven't, there is nothing easy about saying goodbye to someone who's always been there. And to those of you who know what I am going through, I ask, "Does the hurt ever go away?"
I lost my Granny, Margaret Shown, on October 19, 2011. She was diagnosed with what we'll call a bad heart in September of 2010, not long after Makenna was born. In fact, this is a picture of her with Makenna when we took Makenna to the hospital before Granny's Cardiac Catheterization procedure, which would be the procedure that told us her heart was in trouble.
We weren't always close, but in the last few years of her life, we became closer than we had been. Especially when I had my children. It was amazing to see her with my babies. How many children have the chance to know their great grandparents? I don't remember mine. And that kills me, that my children will only have pictures to remember her by.
I feel like crying writing this. I know there are other loses that are more profound. Some I don't even want to think about. That doesn't make the hurt less. She was with me for 27 years, and there is a massive hole in my heart without her. She loved me, of that I have no doubt. I just wish I knew for certain that I let her know how very much I loved her. I feel like there were so many wasted moments with her, moments that I wish I could get back. I'm guessing that's a normal part of loss. It just sucks so much not to have one more opportunity to tell her I love her. I believe in God, and I believe in Heaven, so I'm banking on her being able to hear me now, because I talk to her all the time. Probably more now than when she was alive.
So many times in the months since she has died, I've picked up the phone to call her. Her number is still in there. I can't bring myself to take it out. Silly, I know. But there's a part of me that just can't let go.
She was hospitalized a few days before she passed away. I went to see her that Saturday. I woke her up when I went into her room. The medical professional in me knew she needed to sleep, and almost didn't wake her, but the granddaughter in me wanted her to know I was there. I'm so glad I did. I was in the room with her when the doctors told her that the fight was over, that it was time to go home on hospice, and that it would only be a matter of weeks before her time was up. That was, by far, one of the hardest things to watch. To see a woman I love with my entire heart being told she was going to die, sooner rather than later. She was lucid, so she knew exactly what was happening, and what she was being told. She didn't want to die, but she knew she was out of time. To this day I can't get the image or sound of her crying about what the doctors told her out of my head. I'm glad I was there for her, but I wish the images would go away. It's selfish, because at least I am here to have them.
There's only one thing that was good about that visit, as it was the last time I saw my Granny alive. As I was leaving, I hugged her tightly and told her I loved her, and she said she loved me. I'll never forget the look in her eyes when I was leaving, because in her eyes was the knowledge that this was quite possibly the last time we would see each other. I didn't want to leave, but I knew I couldn't stay forever. As it turns out, she was released from the hospital the next day, and was barely conscious after that. She passed away Wednesday afternoon. It was a blessing, because at the end things weren't good for her. I was taking the children to see her on Sunday, and it breaks my heart that she never got to say goodbye to them. Hell, it breaks my heart that we had to say goodbye at all.
When it comes to Granny, my life is full of should have, could have, and would have. I should have been better to her when I had the chance. I could have told her I loved her a few more times when I was with her, I should have held her longer. If I had believed that it was our last visit, I would have taken pictures with her, taken the kids to see her. The list goes on. Even though I know in my head that I can't live based on the should/could/would have's.
I can still hear her voice, so clearly that I feel like I could call her right now, and she'd be on the other end of the line. She loved her family so much, and even the last time I saw her, she was so...well, so Granny. She loved the Orioles, was learning to love football. She loved coffee, and hot tea. She loved her family, and was happiest when surrounded by them, especially her great grandchildren, Makenna was her only great-granddaughter, who shared her middle name as I do. She was always so proud of any accomplishment her family had. When Ben graduated on 12/19, I wanted to call her to tell her. The same as I wanted to call her Christmas Morning. Then I remembered. And I cried. Not as much as the time before, but still.
I'm becoming more and more convinced that this won't go away. The hurt won't disappear, the pain of losing her won't stop. I just hope that some day, some time soon, I can think of her without crying, and that I can see her picture without feeling sad. She loved life, and would hate for us to be sad for her. So I hope that some day, I can think of her with a smile, not a tear.
Granny, I love you so much, and I hope you know that. You left a hole in my heart, and it's one that will never be filled without you on this earth. Someday, I'll see you again, and until then I'll miss you. I think about you every day, and I don't think that will ever change. I hope you are resting peacfully in the arms of your Lord, for if there was any one who deserved to be with Jesus, it was you. If you have any way to do it, please show me that this hurt will stop some day. I miss you so much. I love you more. And I can't, even months later, believe that you are gone.
I love you, Granny. Always.
Love,
Allison
