As I write this, it’s January 29, 2014. That means that it has been exactly 3 years
since my Nana died.
Shit.
Time passes by
so fucking fast. Like a blink. But my
body knows that some measure of time has passed, because I only tear up about
20% of the time when I think of her. I
don’t get into all out crying jags. That’s been about a year, maybe 18
months. I still miss her though. I figure I’m right on track. When my Papa died, it took about 5 years
before I could remain completely dry eyed and even still, that’s not completely
a sure thing.
I don’t know. Maybe
you do the same thing I do. Maybe when you
think of love ones you've lost you sit in wonder over how much time has passed
since they existed on this plane. Maybe
you think of how much has happened and how you wish they could see it. Maybe you dare to hope that they really can
see it, or that maybe they can feel how much they are still very much missed.
I do know that in my heart, my Nana still lives. She’s there when I choose her phrases as my
reply. She’s there when I hear her
laughter inside my head. She’s there
when I look at my daughter and my mother.
She’s there because, since she’s crossed the river, there hasn't been a day when I haven’t thought about her.
I suppose that’s the beauty of a life well lived. Your loved ones keep you alive in their memories.
Doesn't seem like such a bad deal to me.
