My grandmother died. She was alone in a train station on her way to visit family.
I called her Nanny and I have been struggling to write down the words about her. Actually I’ve been struggling in general.
I have been putting on a front, brave face, but I’m hurt. I can’t believe she is gone. I can’t believe that I’ll never hear her call me honey again.
I think the shock is what is getting me the most, I’ve lost grandparents; but I knew they were dying. I was prepared for that pain. I was not prepared for a call from my dad on a random Wednesday night telling me the grandmother that was only in her 70s is gone.
I’m struggling now. I can barely swipe my words on my phone’s keyboard.
She was a piece of home for me. Growing up a military brat we moved around A LOT, so we didn’t have a physical home, we had people “homes”. I’ve lost most of them now; my nanny, my PopPop, their houses and my parents.
I still have my parents, thank God, but its not the same honestly. Everybody has issues with parents at some point and I’m no different, my Nanny was my safe place. She didn’t judge me, or get mad at me, she was always proud of me. She just loved me.
I’m thankful I got her for the time I did. I’m thankful that she moved closer to us and that I kept a close relationship with her. I am glad I made a point of seeing her every chance I could.