The other night I was thinking about Thanksgiving. It will be almost one year since my grandma passed away. A whole year. It feels like I just haven't seen her in awhile, not that she's really gone. How can she really be gone? The woman who literally saved me and my sister many times growing up. The woman who shaped me, who really raised me, who when she died I felt like my own mother died. Last Thanksgiving we went back home and spent it with my Dad. My Dad's one sister and brother had just placed my grandma in a home forcibly. I had to see her and make sure she was okay and that the place was okay. I was very worried about her and it upset me. We took my son and she was okay but not herself. She was upset about being there and asked me about it. I didn't know what to tell her. She knew what was going on. We took a few pictures and came back home. It turned out to be the last time I would see her alive. She ended up dying in her sleep comfortably at least. Her funeral was the most heartbreaking thing I have ever had to do. Saying goodbye was almost unbearable. I miss her all the time. I often smile when I zip up my son's jacket. She used to say when I was a little girl to me, Chinny Up!. It's the little things I remember that make me miss her the most. This year we will be visiting my husband's grandfather who is also in his 90's and unfortunately this year might be his last holiday. So sad. I do have to say it is amazing that my husband and I have made it this far into adulthood with our grandparents. Many friends of ours have not. They have also seen our son which makes us and them proud. He won't remember them, but we have lots of pictures and stories to share later.
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