I write this today with a heavy heart.
Yesterday, on Christmas Day, while others are celebrating the coming of the Lord and togetherness of family, my family lost someone near and dear to us. My grandmother, the matriarch of my mother's family and the last parental link I had to my mother, passed away. I can not even begin to describe the grief that consumes me, as it feels as though my mother has died all over again, and a part of me has died with her. I struggle to see the screen as I type this, my eyes clouded over by my tears, and I try hard to fight the lump that builds in my throat.
Today I want to crawl under the covers, forget the world outside, and cry. I want to weep for all the memories I have and mourn for those I will never have the chance to make. But I can't. I have to be strong for the little girl that lays sleeping in the room next to me, who will wake and have no idea how broken her mother is. I shed my tears while she lay in peaceful slumber so I may wipe my eyes and be joyful when she awakens, a bright ray of light in my dark, dark world.
Why?, I ask. Why now? Why ever? There comes a point in a person's life when you realize that no one can escape the grips of death, and you learn to expect it as people age, but it still is just as raw and painful and unexpected as any loss. You can never prepare for it, nor can you be unaffected by it.
The time has come to dry my eyes. The day is new for my little girl, and there will be no sadness for her. I will be strong and let her smile fill the empty hole that is now my heart.
Rest in peace, Grandma, and say hi to mom for me. Love you to the moon and back.