One year ago today I lost my best friend. I would love to say that I have gotten stronger with each passing day but that would be a lie. As I drove home from work tonight I gazed into the orange glowing clock on my dash and replayed last year as I drove home from saying good-bye. I had my one-month-old baby in the backseat, I had the soft tune of Jack Johnson’s “Cocoon” playing as the snow lightly fell from the midnight sky. I cried, I laughed and my heart broke. I knew that was the last time I would ever see her, the last time I would kiss her frail hand and the last time I could tell her I loved her more than life itself. I told her to watch over her newly born angel and as I told her I loved her, she squeezed my hand and muttered a hum. This past year has been the most difficult in terms of grieving, I feel as though I grieve everyday, as I wake-up I look into my hallway directly outside of my room and look at our last complete family photo, I say good morning to her and as I go to bed, I look at her smile and wish I could see it once again. There were days when I went to pick-up the phone to call her and nights where I would wake screaming. On days while having lunch I would imagine our many lunch dates when we would share a chicken salad sandwich or how you loved a small glass of coke with your turkey sandwich. There are days when I try to forget but I cannot, I cry almost everyday, not because I am sad, but because I simply miss you. I remember telling you that I need you to visit me, to know that you are okay and to put me at ease. Many nights throughout the year I would stare into my stark black room waiting for some sign, but nothing. It wasn’t until I went home for Christmas, when I slept in your room, many times before I could not enter without losing it. Looking at your furniture, your pictures, your ashes, it was never easy, until then. The day after Christmas I slept in until 11:30, I was warm, comforted and felt you. Laying in your bed it was like you were wrapped around me like a cocoon telling me it was okay to move on, that you’re okay, that everything is and will be okay. After the New Year passed I found myself being able to finally speak of you, your passing, my complete and udder love for you and how I dealt with the depression that had once engulfed my soul. You freed me from my sadness. I know each day will have it’s challenges, and I still miss you, I will always miss you. I cannot thank you enough for all that you instilled in me and I promise to always speak of you to keep your family legacy alive.
Grandmas hold our tiny hands for just a little while, but our hearts forever.
I love you Grandma.
xoxo,
Missy
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