Grief

I lost my grandmother a year and a half ago. Her loss was the first big one in my life–I have had older relatives pass away, but none that I was as close to as my grandma. It was very sudden, and it felt like I was being punched in the stomach over and over again.

It was the beginning of a semester, I had to miss the first day of two college classes. Not that I minded, though. I wanted, and needed, to be with my family.

I had never realized how quickly things move when someone passes away. My grandma died early Tuesday morning, and later that day we were at the funeral home making arrangements for the upcoming Friday. The service was going to be at the church my family has been attending for decades. We had the songs picked out, the pastor we wanted was going to drive quite a ways to get to our town. It felt so fast, like I couldn't stop to breathe.

Looking back, I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

They say there are stages of grief, but I'm not totally sure I've been through even half of them. I was never angry, or in denial. I never entered the bargaining stage. The whole thing reminded me of a sociology class I had taken a year before. The professor had studied bereavement extensively, and when we got on the topic she would say that she hated the idea of the stages of grief. She would say that grief is not one size fits all–everyone processes things differently, and that's a good thing.

I think about my grandma a lot, but recently when I see something that reminds me of some random thing she used to do, my brain doesn't want to let go of it. Just recently I was thinking about how, when we would hold hands, her purse would slide down her arm and we would laugh about it. One of us would reach down and fix it. She always said that our hands fit perfectly together. I don't have any idea what sparked that memory.

That's been happening to me a lot lately, and while it does make me sad, it also makes me feel nostalgic. It takes me back to a time before my grandma had dementia, when we would stay up all night talking and laughing. When she would go along with whatever weird game I imagined. Before I was worried that we would lose her in a crowded store. Before I wondered if she would remember all of our names. Before I saw my mom fall apart because her mother didn't remember her favorite restaurant.

There isn't one “right” way to grieve. If you're going through this right now, I want you to know that you will be okay, but it might take a while.

Stay safe and be kind to yourself.

–Abbie