Amac Productions

So, over a year ago now, I lost my Nana to covid. (This is not a political or covid focused statement. Just a fact.)

Today would be here birthday…

This is the second one without her…

My family has lived together my whole life. My grandparents, parents, an aunt, and etc. People have come and gone from my house over the years which isn’t abnormal. But this is only the second one to death and it’s a far different experience when it’s so sudden and you’re not nine.

Grief isn’t a linear process.

You’ll go through the five stages of grief more times than you want to count or admit.

Some days – like today – will be worse than others.

It’ll hit you at the weirdest moments.

Like when you’re going through an old chest full of stuff and you find this old clone trooper minifigure you thought you lost years ago only to discover Nana tucked it away somewhere safe.

Or you find all the drawings and gifts you gave her all those years ago.

When something falls in the kitchen upstairs and the it sounds like she’s doing the dishes.

When you wake up at five in the morning but no one’s showering or making coffee in the kitchen.

No matter how many times you promise that you’ll clean up that half-eaten candy cane sitting on the table on the porch where she spent most of her time but you can’t do it. Because maybe if you leave it there waiting for her, she’ll come home to finish it like she was supposed to.

Like she thought she would.

Or when your cat searches the house for her, for months on end.

When your Papa admits he’s having trouble sleeping alone and the past Christmas was extra hard without a certain someone.

It’ll be harder some days than others.

Other days, you’ll just remember the good moments and smile instead of crying.

Like the day you walked into the laundry room and she was talking to the kitty while tying up a trash bag. To anyone else, they’d think the cat was in the bag. But if you knew my Nana, she’d never hurt a kitty. But man – was it hilarious without Wynonna in sight.

All the times you played poker together.

Covering her face in make-up when you were little.

Sharing apples.

Getting diagnosed with a chronic illness and her braving the stairs she couldn’t navigate as well now that she was older, to come downstairs to check on you. Chat for 15 to 20 minutes so you wouldn’t be alone.

Every Christmas when she’d get excited over light-up silly jewelry and wear them all day, declaring her granddaughter gave them to her.

Her endless heart for those who didn’t deserve it.

You’ll even find yourself missing the things that bugged you, because you’d give anything to be bothered again by her constantly rearranging the kitchen or cleaning up while you’re mid-project.

Grief isn’t linear.

It comes in waves.

And you have to ride them or they’ll drown you.

So, don’t forget the ones who are gone. Don’t ignore the memories or the bad days. Say it. Indulge. Tell those who also understand how bad today is.

Trust me. Keeping it inside will make you sick.

And more importantly, I want to share a memory from long ago.

I was probably around six or seven when one day my Nana asked me to go to lunch on a Saturday with her and Papa. I said no.

They agreed and didn’t fuss about it.

I was a little kid. All my toys were out and I wanted to play, not go spend a boring lunch with my grandparents.

But my Mom came down to my room and asked why I said no. I told her something about playing and not wanting to go. She told me my toys would be there when I got home and I’ll have time to play later.

She gently sat me down and told me something I never forgot.

She said I only have so much time with my grandparents and they want to spend time with me. I should go because I might not have a tomorrow. She asked me how I would feel if I didn’t have a tomorrow with them and I didn’t spend today with them.

I wouldn’t like it.

I agreed to go to lunch.

I agreed a lot.

With that thought in the back of my mind, I spent time with my family because we won’t have forever. I won’t have forever with them.

I watched Judge Judy with my Nana. I ate dinner with them whenever I was around. We have barbeques, fires, poker days, board games, projects, and countless other times where I spent time with my family because tomorrow might not come.

Even if it’s not family, if it’s a made family, or those you’ve choosen to be in your life. Even if it’s a pet. Don’t sacrifice today.

There may not be a tomorrow.

Today is important.

Even if it’s lunch or a cuddle or being in the same room while you do different things.

Be together.

Spread the love.