To begin, I’d like to thank everyone who has reached out via text, Snapchat, or phone call. I apologize for the distance and length of time it has taken me to respond. I’m overwhelmed. I’m brokenhearted. Frankly, I can’t put many words together to form a complete sentence. However, I am extremely appreciative of all the people who have taken the time to show me they care. Thank you.
This moment was inevitable. I prayed this day would never come for so many years. I would wake up in college frantic because I had a nightmare of your passing. As a young girl, I had images of attending your funeral graze through my mind. Even as an adult, the fear of losing you was so magnificent that I visited you every chance I could. You were it. You were my life. You were the first person I’d call when I beat a group of men in bowling. Your smile and happy tears were the first image in my head after a new accomplishment. You were always so proud of me, even if it was just showing Grandpa my new training bra. You were the brightest hour on my darkest days. While the family tree titles you as Grandma, you were so much more than that to me. You helped raise me while my parents were at work. You conditioned me into adopting every stray animal. Heck, I’m 27 and I’m still picking up stray “kitties” for Mom’s garage. You showed me that no matter what we may experience in life, God’s got us and to be kind. You wore your heart on your sleeve, unapologetically. From crying at old westerns (even though you’ve seen them all before), to yelling back at Doug in a game of cards, you were honest and fearless. In fact, the reason I live the outgoing life I do is because of you. We aren’t afraid of being 6 feet under because we have half our heart in Heaven. Now, you are reunited with those loved ones and I’m immensely jealous. Lucky.
Although, I do not regret a single thing in our lives together, I am a bit fragile of all that we can’t continue to experience on Earth. You won’t hold my children in your arms or meet the man I marry (well, maybe). You won’t be able to fill my father’s footsteps walking me down the aisle. You will never step into the first house I buy and say, “Oh Bec, it’s beautiful” even if it is a trailer house in North Rapid. All these firsts will be without you by my side.. However, to push me to a better tomorrow, I have to remember all that we experienced together. You chased down the Colome School bus when they forgot to let me off at Brown Oil. You attended so many of my sporting events delighting the crowd next to you with your rendition of Notre Dame Victory March. You were the first person to hold me tight in a rocker (that I’m currently sitting in) when my father passed. You were my glue, my inspiration.
You hated smiling in pictures but you could brighten any room with your dirty jokes and witty remarks, with your giggle after slapping your own mouth, with your authentic personality of loving one another.
Today, my lighthouse goes dark. I ask for patience for myself and my loved ones as we learn to navigate the storm of life without our pilot. Tell Dad and Grandpa hi and brag about all that they have missed. Your words will always ring within me: “Wake Up A Little Suzy”, “Goody Goody Gumdrop”, “Everything Goes By So Fast; Do It While You Can Hunny”, and my favorite, “Damn Flies.”
See you later, Grandma <3
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