March 31st 2017
Today it’s a year to the day since my Nan died. I’ve known that this anniversary has been coming for a while now, but I’m still no closer to processing it. It seems impossible that it’s been a year, but to me it still feels impossible that it even happened.
I’ve not really grieved at all. I don’t really know what it means.
I did most of my grieving when she was diagnosed, I processed the information, understood the outcome, and broke down. I didn’t sleep very well for a couple of weeks. But that was before the fact. After the fact – a while after the fact – I was okay. And I’ve been okay, I’m not crying hysterically or throwing chairs.
I mean, if I look at a picture of her for too long I’ll probably start crying, but I’m okay other than that. I wear a pendant around my neck that she gave to me, so it sometimes feels like part of her is still around with me – if that doesn’t sound too crazy.
I think the fact that I knew it was coming helped me in some ways. It’s either that or I’m still trying to figure it out – that I’ve still not accepted it completely. I don’t really know how to.
The death is hard, but the difficult bit is after the death. I get that she died, but I don’t get that she’s not around any more. Like, I can’t just go round for a chat or a cup of tea. I sometimes think that I can. But I can’t any more. And that’s sad. That’s really sad. I can’t understand that. It’s like I forget, for the briefest of moments, and then the realisation is damning, and painful.
Maybe what I’m describing is grief. I don’t really have anything to compare it to. Maybe grief doesn’t have to be tears.
At this point I don’t know if I’m dealing with it well, or poorly. I just know that I miss her.
Until tomorrow, I miss you.