I don't know what to say, exactly. All I know is that full sentences keep popping into my head so I better start writing some down.
My grandmother died yesterday. Cher Me. Writing it down still doesn't make it seem true, like I thought it would. Damn.
Nothing I write seems good enough to convey what I am feeling right now, so I'll just do my best.
Honestly, I never thought this could happen. She was so strong willed and feisty and...Cher Me. Words can not describe. Why are words failing me now?
Last night all I could think about were things to write about her, and I let them get away. I was too tired to get a pen and paper and I was confident the words would come back to me now but it's not happening.
I just need to say things.
I am feeling overwhelmed with grief and happiness and guilt and stress and a million other little dumb feelings.
Grief because she's gone, and I'll never hear her voice again, telling me a long-winded story I don't want to hear. Grief in knowing I will never hear a story again. And there are still so many things I wanted to know! I can still see every detail of her whole person. Her face, her eyes, her hair. I can smell her. Grief from hearing my father's voice tell me the news, which plays on repeat in my brain. The sadness in his voice rips me to pieces. I am in pieces. Grief because it's Christmas, and I always think of her at Christmas.
Happiness because after suffering, there was peace. And rest. Happiness because of all the years I did spend with her.
But right now, what stabs me in the heart is guilt, and it hurts so much. She has been in and out of the hospital for a few months, and every time I called home I would ask about her, and my dad would say "Oh, she's doing alright. You should give her a call. She'd love to hear from you!" and I know she would have. But I never called. I probably called her once all semester. I was supposed to talk to her about seeing the Harry Potter movie and I never did. And now I can't.
Guilt because of all the times in my life I was annoyed with her. Guilt because most of the stories I tell about my grandmother are at her expense. Guilt because I never became a ballerina like she wanted. It stabs and stabs and stabs.
Stress because it is finals week. So all I can think about is how this affects me. Which throws in more guilt.
I need prayers and good thoughts. For Cher Me.
I have no more words right now.