Things I Wanted To Say But Never Did

I Miss You

"You keep storing up all that a anger and grief. Eventually it spills over. Or you drown in it"

15th November 2017

It's been three years since you left. Three birthdays you were't here for. Exactly 1171 days (or at least that's what excel counted - cheers to the perks of actually knowing how to use excel).

What's new, you ask? Well... Christmas is coming up. Did you know I used to love Christmas? It was never my absolute favorite, but it did have a special meaning: dressing up, going around the room saying Hi to everyone and wishing a merry christmas, sitting on your lap as we took family pictures, your huge christmas tree fully decorated, the sitting area filled with presents everywhere, that stupid old tree toy grandma used to leave at the entrance lobby that annoyingly sang a Merry Christmas song, the little doll house that played when you lifted the roof, the Nativity scene with the little well that had actual water in it.

I hate it now. I hate that the first time it hit me that you were actually gone and never coming back was when I walked into your home, on christmas day 2014, and everyone had a sad smile on their faces, like everyone was thinking that you weren't there with us, and yet they kept on straight faces and acted as if it was nothing. I couldn't bear it, at one point I actually went to the bathroom to just cry my heart out. Your absence became the new normal that day: at least for me it did, maybe for others this new normal had started way before.

It took me a long time to break out from the sad and empty state your leaving left me in. I don't remember hearing the news, the exact words that spelled out "Grandpa died", but I do remember it was the end of Summer. The 1st of September, your daughter's birthday. It's weird aunt X*** spent however many years celebrating a certain day, and in 2014 that day became hunted by your ghost. The 1st of september stopped being the day we celebrated her birthday, her coming into this world, and it became the day we mourned your departure. There are endless possibilities in this life, today is just a normal day but who knows if in a few years it won't be the day you choose for you wedding, or the day your child is born in?

I remember the day mom told me you were sick. She sat me down with her and just said it. "Grandpa is sick". I think I was 12 at the time and I was confused - everyone gets sick so why was she making such a big deal out of it? "Grandpa has cancer".I didn't blink twice, my heart didn't skip a beat, my breathing didn't stop. In my naive twelve year old mind I knew one thing, and that was one thing I was sure of: plenty of people make it through cancer, science was progressing at the speed of light so why wouldn't it go away for Grandpa like it did for those people? Of course it would.

I was a robot from the moment I was told you were gone. It's how I remember it at least. I remember holding a lot of emotions in, that were let out the minute I walked into the wake and saw aunt C******* crying. I knew I would see grandma crying, as well as my cousins. I had seen my mom cry before and aunt X***'s puffy eyes weren't unexpected for me. But for some reason, seeing aunt C******* crying was what broke me down. Realization hit me that this was all happening, it wasn't a dream and I didn't stop crying until much, much later. I cried so hard that mom decided that maybe it would be better if the youngsters went home earlier and all had dinner together while the wake was happening. We ate pizza that night and M**** made pancakes for desert - weird, I know, but i think we all just wanted a scoop of that Nutella in the cupboard. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The following day was the worst: I woke up and for a second I didn't remember. My mind was blank. Then I felt my puffy eyes and it dawned in me that you were dead. My heart hurt beyond bearable but I still got up. I got up and I went to get dressed. I opened my closet and I realized i didn't know what to wear. I had never gone to a funeral and I sure as hell didn't expect yours to be the first. Mom just told me to wear white or black, either worked. I still remember what I had on that day, how hot I was under the scorching sun as we walked through the cemetery. I haven't worn that shirt since. We were the last ones to leave, I watched how slowly people started leaving and then all at once: they offered their condolences again, said how much better it would get and then just took off to their busy lives. I learned I had to do the same: step by step I had to close a chapter, and open a new page.

The day after was the first day of the rest of my life. I would't start classes until two weeks later so staying home all day doing nothing but think that you weren't here was what killed me. I remember one day, it was around one week after the funeral, and I asked mom if it would ever get better, the physical pain in my chest. She told me it would. Eventually it would. After the mourning all that would be left are the memories and the feeling of gratefulness for having shared those moments and met that person.

A part of me still misses you terribly and obviously some days hurt a lot more than others, but I've also come to accept that maybe I'm really not the only one who still feels this way. This summer I had a very dramatic breakdown with K*** - have you seen how much he has grown? I mean literally, he's almost 2m tall. Anyway it was the end of the night, sunrise wasn't far, we were in the balcony of your vacation house by the beach, just having late night deep conversations the three of us - me, him and my best friend - and we remembered Poirot. Do you remember him? How the three of us used to sit on the couch binge watching episodes while we ate peanuts? We were talking about it and next thing we knew we were both crying and he hugged me while I bawled my eyes out. We've been getting along much better lately and he'll never know how much that night actually meant to me. How it showed me that maybe I'm not the only one who still misses you dearly.

That brings us to today: my therapist doesn't think I have finished mourning yet. She explained that this whole process can be broken down into four steps: the first one is denial, the second one anger, then comes sadness and finally acceptance. She says I might still be stuck in step three. I thought time took care of it, that facing every day and keep living meant I was okay, and done with this. But maybe it's possible that it's been three years and I'm still not over it. Also, let's be careful here: getting over it doesn't mean forgetting you. Maybe it's in me to actually turn the page, I just don't know how, and I don't have you to help me. But then again, If I had you I wouldn't need to mourn. I guess I'll keep living my life day by day, hour by, minute by minute. Some say you are dead, I like to think you still live in all of our hearts, but maybe I need to let go.

Much love,

Your favourite granddaughter