missing you
I have been dreaming about you. Over the last few weeks.
Sometimes you know that you are gone. Other times, I have to tell you. Always there are tears.
Early this morning, I had one of the ones where I have to tell you.
I woke up crying.
I hate that this is true.
Some days the realization that you are gone tiptoes across my heart. I take a deep breath and I go on.
Other days I am completely shocked. The remembering pulls me out of wherever I am. I am sucker-punched. I cannot breathe.
For the first time, I am trying to let the tears really come. To feel the deep, wide, sharp pain.
Before your death I thought I understood grief. I did not. At all.
This morning, I suddenly found myself crying in the shower. The tears falling as the water rushed over my body. With the sobs I began to shake. My knees bent and I curled up into a ball. The water pounding my back.
It is the need to breathe that brings me back from the tears.
So I breathe.
But still, the missing. I did not know it would be like this. I did not know how it would be, but this, this is so much pain.
I want to talk to you. I want to hear your voice.
I want to touch you. Take your hand as we walk around your yard. Brush your hair. Read to you. Drink pink lemonade together. Laugh with you. Solve problems. Argue about anything. Kiss your forehead.
I want you to be there. And that is a part of me that is really really angry that you are not.
But mostly, I am just sad.
Today was our first day with sun in quite a while.
So I took Millie and went outside. We stood in the sun.
I did this because I knew if we talked on the phone later today. If we could. You would say, "I saw that you had sun today. Did you get outside?"
Yes. Grandma. I stood outside in the sun. Listened to the chickadees. Watched Millie chase squirrels. Looked for four leaf clover. Thought of you.
And even though when I wake up and realize that my dreams are true. That you are gone. That I can't call. That I can't visit. Even though I cry when I wake up. Please don't stop visiting me.
I see your face, with every line. I see your hair, white. I see you. My friend.
I hug you. And I feel you hug me.
on grieving (and healing) 
Reader Comments (6)
wow, wow. very powerful, thought-provoking and bittersweet.
oh sweet friend, thank you for sharing your grief. keep feeling, keep crying, keep breathing, and keep sharing the honesty of your experience. i'm sending a big hug to you.
intense and powerful and brave....you're really lucky to have had a grandma who you loved so much.....
this is so touching and powerful. i completely understand every word that you have written and applaud you for being able to pull these words from your heart and place them here...even after all of these years i find it difficult to write about my father; the irony of course is that i have so much to say about it all and yet struggle to find my words...thank you for sharing this. ~Belle
thank you. all of you. thank you.
My grandmother died 20 years ago (20 YEARS AGO!...I can't believe it)...and I still miss her. There will come a time when it will hurt less...but for me, the missing never completely goes away. But that's okay...I like remembering and I like thinking about her...and I know she still thinks about me...