Every year, I hope September 16th will pass me by, that the calendar will forget that day, that I won't remember. But every year it comes, and I wish I could say it has gotten easier, but for me, it hasn't. My heart still hurts.
I was seventeen when my grandmother, Grace, passed away.
She was in and out of the hospital for various reasons. The hospital was about 10 minutes from our house, so we were there often. I remember doing homework in the waiting rooms, having snacks or sometimes dinner from the cafeteria, and I remember her wearing the cutest socks with angels embroidered on them, because her feet were always cold. Every time I look at those socks I think of her. She never got her driver's license and was so proud of me when I got mine. I wish I could have had the chance to drive her around in my first car.
I even took my Junior Prom pictures in the hospital lobby - just so she could see me all dressed up before I went to the dance. She was all smiles and so happy that night, even though she was hooked up to so many machines. She told me I looked beautiful and whispered, "Thank you," to my best friend who was my date. I will never forget that moment.
A single tear rolled down her cheek right before she went to Heaven.
I couldn't stand the silence. It wasn't really silent, because everyone was crying, but there was a deafening silence I had to get away from. I now know it was stupid, but I had to leave the hospital, so I drove to our church. I was numb and needed to go somewhere, anywhere, besides staying at the hospital. My youth group was preparing for their weekly meeting when I showed up. Everyone knew instantly, my best friend hugged me, and then it finally hit me. She was gone. I stayed with them for a few hours while my family took care of things at the hospital, and finally figured where I had run off to. My dad picked me up and we went home - I was in no condition to drive.
This is what I saw when I got home. I don't know who took it - it might have been my mom - but this is a picture of the sunset on the day my grandmother died. We stood in the driveway just staring at it. It was heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time.
I can't tell you the number of tissues I have gone through while attempting to put everything I'm feeling into words. I know she is in a better place, but I wish she was still here, because I'm selfish. I have been selfish every day for the past ten years because I wanted her here. I wanted her here for my high school and college graduations. I wanted her here when I chose to become a pastry chef - I think she would have been proud of my decision. I wanted her here when I got married. She never got to meet my husband - coincidentally, his birthday is the same day as hers - and I think she would have really liked him. There are so many things she has missed, but I know she is still here in spirit and in our hearts.
I don't know if the hurt will ever go away. It isn't always this bad. More-so around her birthday, holidays and every September 16th. Supposedly time heals all wounds. Will it heal a hurting heart?
While helping my mom make some funeral arrangements, I came upon this poem. It has helped, a little, to comfort me throughout the years.
God saw she was getting tired
and a cure was not to be
So he put His arms around her
and whispered, "Come with Me"
With teared filled eyes we watched her
suffer and fade away
Although we love her deeply
we could not make her stay.
A Golden heart stopped beating
Hard working hands put to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.
Until next time,
LOVE & CONFECTIONS!