This is the post I don't want to write. But I have to. I need to.
Daniel's grandmother passed away around 3am Thursday morning. She was having bypass surgery and her heart just couldn't hold up. Which is ironic, seeing as this woman had one of the strongest, kindest, most loving, most giving hearts I've ever seen.
I cringe just writing the words, "Daniel's grandma," because she was my grandma, too. Even when Daniel and I were just dating, she claimed me as her granddaughter. She never once introduced me as her "grandson's wife" or her "granddaughter-in-law." I've called her Grandma as long as I've known her and that's who she'll always be to me.
It breaks my heart that I only have a few pictures of her, because she meant the world to me.
When Daniel flew to Colorado to meet me for the very first time, it was important to me that he met my parents. It was important to Daniel that I talk to his grandma on the phone. I fell in love with her that night.
When Daniel was deployed, she would call me multiple times a week to make sure I was okay and just to chat. She would tell me stories about how her "Boone-y Butt" used to climb onto her roof to pour water into her swamp cooler and how he earned the name "droopy drawers" when she took him to the doctor so many years ago.
The first time I met her in person was June 15, 2007. It was her 74th birthday and we had planned a road trip to Arizona to surprise her. Daniel's brother and mother had taken her out to eat at her favorite restaurant and when we walked into the room, that woman's face lit up like I had never seen before. She ran over and hugged Daniel, then threw her arms, equally as joyfully, around me.
Later that night, when Daniel was having a heated discussion with his brother and mom, Grandma pulled me over to the couch, put her arm around me, and started filling my ear with how glad she was I was there, how she wanted to learn everything about me and my family, and how happy she was that Daniel and I had found each other.
She lived for her family. She was the peacekeeper. She wanted everyone to be happy and would do anything she could to make that happen. She was constantly putting others' needs above her own.
She was an incredibly hard worker. She would have been 79 this year and it was only in the past month or so that health problems kept her from going in for her shifts. She was a receptionist and all of her coworkers adored her.
Working so hard wore her out, but she would always make time to call family members and keep up with their lives.
Her grandsons brought incredible joy to her life. Daniel's brother has lived with her for the past 20ish years and she loved him to pieces. She was always telling everyone how proud she was of Daniel and his brother's achievements.
I can't believe she's gone. We were
just in her hospital room talking to her about shoes and where they were going to move and the book she was reading. The most mundane, everyday things. We had
just programmed our numbers into her new cell phone, so she could call us while she was recovering. It's not right.
The world right now without her in it just isn't right.
I'm really glad that I decided to start sending cards this year, because I sent her one at the beginning of this month telling her how much she meant to me, but it isn't enough. She deserved so much more.
I keep wanting to pick up the phone and call her. I want to hear her pick up the phone with a "Hi, sweetie! I've been thinking about you guys!" I ache to hear her laugh again. To feel her arms around me and gently hold my hand. I don't want to forget the sound of her voice.
I miss her.