Grandma

Today in class we were talking about funerals. And we had to imagine going to our own funerals. To say that it made me sad is an understatement. I couldn’t stop thinking about grandmas funeral and how I’m always going to miss her. Her mind has been gone for years, but I still miss being able to see her and talk to her and to tell her that I love her. Becca read a poem at her funeral and it’s amazing.

Oh man, reading it still makes me cry. I’ll get better and it’ll stop hurting so much, but today it hurts more than usual. I never really talk about it but grandma was my first best friend. I spent my summers at her house and I knew that she would always be there, right across the street. I miss being able to talk to her and I’m always going to mourn the fact that I can’t remember the last time she looked at me and knew who I was.

Movies got it wrong. There is no special moment before death where they remember and everyone gets a bitter sweet goodbye and get one last reminder of the person they knew. All you get is the worst kind of anticipation that leaves you feeling sad and happy and expectant all in one. It’s the kind of anticipation that you only experience when you’re just waiting for someone you love to die. I hate movies for giving me a false hope that grandma would remember me. She didn’t. When I went to say goodbye to her she was asleep the whole time. I bet her earthly self didn’t even know I was there.

I’m going to be fine, but today all I want to do is read this poem, and then cry in my shower.

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