My beloved gramma passed away on sunday.
Current mood: melancholy


I am saddened beyond all hope of expression. Words can't begin to scratch the surface of my grief, but I give them anyway. Some feel grief is something to be subverted or disguised, but this is a belief I have yet to share. For what is grief but the weight and measure of loss? It cannot shame us if we have loved truly, nor diminish us for loving deeply. Indeed, it is the very price of love. We cherished her as she did us, and keenly will her absence be felt.

Her pride in her family was indefatigable. My brother and I have her to thank for our livelihoods, for she believed in both of us enough to invest in our futures. She had faith in me when I didn't have any in myself, and for that I owe her eternal gratitude.

She treated grandchildren like they were her own, great-grandchildren like grandchildren, and spouses of grandchildren like cherished friends. I'm glad my son was born in her lifetime, and that they got to know each other. I know she took pride in all the kids. She would introduce them to everyone who passed, beaming with obvious pride.

It's no small comfort to me that she's happier now: reunited with Grandpa and free of pain or illness. If an afterlife exists, there is surely no person more deserving of its rewards. In my own life, I knew no one more gracious, no soul more generous, no love more unconditional.

She was the strongest woman I know. Her resolve was no less steely for being tempered with love. I believe it served her well in the end; because she left this world as surely as she entered it: on her own terms, and with her dignity intact. We should all be so lucky to merit such an exit.

I loved her more than mere words could convey. If I take nothing else with me in life, I have this: that I am a better person for having known her, and in loving her, I am lifted up.