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.
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.
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.
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.