Loss and the grief that comes with it never get easier. Even when the person is 92-years-old and has lived a great life.
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I lost my grandmother a week and a half ago. It wasn’t sudden, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I was nine when my grandfather died and thirteen when my other grandmother died. I was devastated with each loss, but not like this. Losing a grandparent as an adult is so hard. Now, at 31, I am old enough to know my grandma in a different way. I’ve heard her stories. I’ve connected with her as an adult and as an equal. I’ve seen her love for her family from a new perspective. But most importantly, I have a new understanding for what a strong woman she was.
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Shortly before I was born, my grandfather was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident. My grandma was just four years older than my mom is now. My grandma became his caretaker. I can only appreciate now the love and dedication she felt when she took care of him. It takes a strong woman to take on that responsibility. I can only hope that I would be that strong if faced with the same situation.
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My greatest sadness comes from the fact that Gemma won’t remember her GG and that my grandma didn’t live long enough to make it to my wedding. But I can be comforted by the fact that she isn’t suffering anymore and that she lived a long full life, and that she got to meet her great-granddaughter. I can only hope that Gemma will have some memory of her. And if she doesn’t, we’ll tell her stories about her GG.