6 years ago today, my gramma died.
I wrote this post two years ago. I try, very hard, right around this time of year in particular, to share what happened to her. Not to criticize or horrify, but to make people aware of what can happen.
I miss her every day. I put a note in our wedding program that we could see her face, and those of the other family members we've lost, in our loved ones' faces, but I still miss her terribly. She had so much living to do yet--she wanted to live to be a great-gramma, that was her goal. Even thinking that she is in Heaven, picking out the soul that will, one day, be her great-grandchild (I imagine her choosing an ornery little one, but not a red-headed one, she didn't like red hair, even though two of us have it, LOL) doesn't make it any easier. I wonder if the boy who killed her will stop today and say a prayer for her. Did he ever pray for us? If so, he never reached out to us--I know it's too much to expect, but, really, was it too much to ask?
But I will try not to dwell on the bad things. Because her life was so much more than that last day. It always gave me great delight to think that I probably had the only set of shine-making grandparents in my high school class. Yes, other people's grammas were probably better educated and more genteel, but mine were COOL! And, how she loved dogs, of all shapes and sizes. How Beazer would have loved his great-grammy. And I take a lot of comfort from the same song that I loved during those first few months, "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. I prefer to think of her as dancing along the light of day. Heaven is a much more interesting place since she went. The world is a better place because she was here.