The last seven days, one hour and twenty-two minutes I have found myself searching for (read begging for) reasons be grateful. I know deep down inside that there are plenty - hundreds, if not thousands, of reasons for me to be grateful. I need to write them down in order to feel them. To read them later when I need to calm my heart. I guess it's my form of meditating or healing. We carry on.
My husband - Let me tell you this: that Dann Allan is quite fantastic. He has been by my side constantly. To let me cry my eyes out, to talk about my nana, to let me drink chocolate milk in the bathtub at two in the morning. He has made the last week as easy as he could for me. Having someone as wonderful as Dann is as my husband is something I will always be grateful for and undeserving of. Last week after pretty much being awake for 36 hours that handsome beau of mine rubbed my feet without me asking and tucked me in when I fell asleep on the couch. When your mind refuses to let you sleep and your body is so run down from exhaustion and grief that is a wonderful gift.
My Lennon - He's my happy place. He does not care that I am grieving or that I cannot sleep at night. He wants to do puzzles at eight in the morning or have a dinosaur fight around noon - when I am finally so exhausted that I conk out. He makes me laugh without even trying. He gives me constant cuddles and kisses. He is an absolute joy for me to be around. It appears that he has also forgiven me for chopping off all of his hair before my Nana's viewing Thursday. Unconditional love is rare. It turns out that he loves me just as I love him.
My friends - to all of you who have texted or called or messaged me on facebook, thank you. I know I have ignored you but I have read your love and I really do appreciate it. I use my phone as a tool to escape. When I am on it, I simply do not have the strength to start a conversation of how much I hurt. I am sorry for that. To those I have had half-assed convos with, I am sorry too. I'll get better. I just ache. To those of you who made it to the services. I thank you. By the time I saw most of you, I was numb. Trust me, you'd rather it that way. Your presence was felt and it was powerful. My nana loved you and I hope you know how great that is.
My Aunt Rosie - everyone in my mom's family has spread out across the US. My aunt and my mom are the only ones here. I can cry in front of her, confide in her, and laugh with her. Those three things are always important but over the last week, they were necessities.
My Mom - oh. What a pillar of strength and love. Sometimes little kids are brats. Sometimes adult kids are brats. When those adult brats lose their grandmother, the brattiness gets turned up to hide the pain and fear so the grieving mother, who lost her mother, must play mediator, friend, and counselor. My mother has been my voice when I was not strong enough to speak, my courage when I was afraid to speak, my light when the sadness was just too dark. As always, she is putting our needs in front of her own and I am grateful.
My Nana - I have accepted the fact that I will never be able to weave together the words that are deserving enough, strong enough, great enough to describe how incredibly thankful I am for being given such an amazing woman as my grandmother. (Seriously, I wrote at least five eulogies and they were all "terrible.") There is so much nana in all of us that she will live on in our children and probably our grandchildren. That does not lessen the blow of losing her. I woke up on NANA'S FUNERAL morning, peaceful, ready to take on the world and face the day with a smile. Now, it's coming to the three o'clock hour of the next morning and I am heartbroken and lost again. The pain is harsh and unnerving. The fact that my family laid my nana to rest today is so unbelievably feckin' surreal that I think I must be dreaming - I have to be dreaming. But I know I'm not because every dream I've ever had about nana dying, it would end with her telling me to wake up and that it was all a dream. I know that to grieve deeply means one must have loved deeply. So by this unbearable loss, I know I am blessed. I know I am grateful for having my nana for so long. And I know that once the grief stops clouding my soul that I will dream again and she will be there. I will hear her voice and see her smile. For that, I am grateful. Her absence is so overwhelming that it's almost suffocating. But I know I am lucky to have had her and I am grateful that I am her granddaughter. I will try to live the next days, weeks, months, even years if I have to, by the message in her goodbye song: if that's all there is, my friends, then let's keep dancing. ❤️🌹💔
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