Ten Years πŸ’”

Every year, when this day rolls around, it’s always a rough day. Luckily, I was pretty busy today. With all the errands I ran, it kept things off my mind. Doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. Just managed not to dwell on it. 

When you’re broken, time takes over and eventually you start to heal to the point that you feel like you’re almost whole again. As whole as you can be anyways. And then a certain day comes around, and you crack. You don’t fall completely to pieces because you’ve healed some and overtime you crack less and less, but still those things happen and they cause you to crack and you feel it deep and fresh and it’s paralyzing for a moment. 

10 years.

It doesn’t seem real. Or possible.   

I cannot wrap my mind around that number. 

10 whole years.

It’s not fair. It’s simply just not fair. 

And I’m broken again. 

April isn’t as bad. Memories of birthdays are the easiest to make it through in my opinion. They’re happy days. Days to celebrate because it’s the day this wonderful person came into existence. But death dates, those cut deep. Nothing but sorrow and pain to associated with the day. 

I remember it and can relive the pain so easily yet the details slip away. It was early. My parents were in Florida. I was laying in bed and all my mom said was “She’s gone.” The rest of the conversation is lost to time. I’m sure it had to do with my sister. I’m still mad at her about that day. I think it’s easier to hold on to that because it helps, in a sense, take away from the blunt force pain of the rest. I cried, and I went back to sleep. 

I can’t even put into words still, 10 years later, what this feeling inside is when I think about it. It’s like a white hot, slashing knife through my heart and soul, but that isn’t even enough. It’s just there. It’ll never leave. 

I only got 19 years of her life and I don’t even remember the first 5 years I had. For 69 years, she lived without me. And, for 10 years, I’ve lived without her. It’s not fair. She lived almost her whole life without me. I was just a small piece at the end. And she was just a small piece at my beginning. It’s heartbreaking within itself how little our lives overlapped. Time is very cruel in the grandparent aspect. I got a lot longer than some people. Some people never even get to meet their grandparents. But I want more. 

I miss you, Grandma. I wish you could see my girls and love on them. I wish they had more of you than me trying to pull and share memories. I held my Matilda on my lap this morning and showed her your picture. I told her you were my grandma. That’s all I got in before she wiggled off my lap to go see what her sister was doing. 

I can’t remember the sound your voice anymore. I can’t remember the touch of your hand. I can’t remember the feel of your hug. I know how special they were to me, and I cling to the ghost of them I keep in my memories. It’s hard in a world where everything is documented and saved to not have videos and photos of you. You were gone before smartphones. I have to hold you in my heart and love you and miss you from there. 

10 years. It’s just inconceivable. It’s incomprehensible. It’s simple just not fair. 


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