In Memorium

Please bear with me as I deviate from my usual theme, for a little bit at least.

Today is eight years since the world as I knew it fell apart. Eight years ago tonight, my grandma died. Eight years ago tonight, I was sitting in the bedroom that I had spent so much time as a child, waiting for the inevitable. Laying in the bed that always held some gift whenever I came to visit, I heard my dad tell my aunt that she had died. I couldn't cry. I cried and cried when the dog I'd had since I was two years old died the spring before, but I just sat there, in the dark, not able to cry. When my dad came in to tell me, I was just sitting there, not crying, and telling him how I cried so much when Blue died, but I couldn't cry now.

My father took my brother and I to see her the month before. It was right after she found out she was ill. I knew that she was sick, but never ever did it cross my mind that she would die. She couldn't die. I couldn't imagine a world without her. I couldn't even remember what we talked about as I sat in her room the last night of that visit. I still can't. She had to have known that it was the last we would be like that, and she made it like normal. She knew saying goodbye would be horrible for me, so, we never said it.

I was sixteen years old and my world had ended. The one person who openly and lavishly loved me my entire childhood was gone. The woman who always listened to me, the one who I would call as soon as long distance was free nights than not, the one who I would stay up late talking to when we visited, had died. I never doubted her love for me. The truth be told, I loved her more than I did my own mother. I would never be able to talk to her again and I was lost.

The next day, I lost my very first job bagging groceries when I said that I had to be out of town for another week. When I came back to school, I was woefully behind, missing nearly two weeks worth of material. Add to that the stress of being bullied, my own family's issues, and finding a new job that I hated, I entered the darkest part of my life. It wasn't until seven months later and an ocean away that I began to breathe again. That I began to feel again.

My life changed course. Before that point, I was going to major in history and work in a museum. Maybe journalism and write political columns. Live around DC and live the life of a political wannabe. I had a list of colleges all picked out. Then, my priorities were reevaluated, and I wound up on the track that lead me to where I am today. The college where I found myself and made some of my closest friends. Where, ironically, I  most likely received more history training than if I had gone to one of the colleges I had picked out. The job I have now and the love that I've found here.

Her legacy goes on, as they tend to do. I look like her. When I want to shave off my crazy hair because I can't stand it, I remember that it is her hair. I am looking forward to loving on my niece or nephew as much as she loved on me. I say "have fun, be safe" because of her. I see my blessings in life through the lens she instilled in me.

So, here is where I rejoin the theme of this blog. Today, as I was having lunch, I was with my friends. They've become part of my family. I would have never known them, this place, and all it has given to me, had my grandma not died. I wouldn't know team!friend, gator!friend, baby!boy or hoodie!boy or anyone else that I can't imagine not having in my life. I wouldn't be on this crazy adventure over a thousand miles from where I grew up.

I wouldn't have this much love in my life.

I wouldn't be the woman that I am.