You

One of the kindest and most caring things someone said to me after the death of my grandmother was, "Never underestimate the loss of a grandparent." I kind of had it in my mind leading up to her passing that it was part of the normal cycle of life that grandparents die. I knew it was coming and up until the point of it happening I was quite philosophical and thought myself prepared.

However, when I did get the phonecall to tell me that she'd gone I found myself very unprepared. It wasn't supposed to happen yet! I was going to see her tomorrow! I'm not ready! 

Despite the fact that she and I hadn't seen each other as much as I would've liked over the last ten years of her life, her passing left a gaping hole in my heart. I tried to fill that hole with noise. My iPod was always on, earphones in, playing metal - the kind of music Nan would definitely not have listened to. If anything quiet or soulful came on my heart just ached...and I even felt scared. I didn't like silence. The silence made it really feel like she'd gone. I couldn't understand why it affected me so much, especially seeing she and I butted heads on more than one occasion.

So to have a caring someone say, "Never underestimate the loss of a grandparent," was a balm for my soul.

Today is what would have been my Nanna's birthday. Today marks five years since I last saw her. Again I am overwhelmed and somewhat confused about the emotions that surface each year on her birthday. I miss her. I miss who she was before the Alzheimer's took hold. I miss her fire, her somewhat blinkered view about life and faith and God. I miss her never-wavering assurance of the truth as she believed it to be. I miss her bossiness. I miss her being the first to the dessert table. I miss her voice, her hands, her smell. I miss the mole on her chin. I miss her stories.

I hope she's up there testifying on my behalf, getting heaven organised, laughing with her family.

I miss you Daffy-down-dilly.