Trying to pick myself up from falling. Just a little bit this time. I buried both of my grandparent in less than a month. First my grandmother. It was a shock. I was hysterical. Not even a week after my grandmothers funeral she came and took my grandfather with her. It was for the best. He couldn’t live without her. It was painful to see him. You could feel her presence in the hospital room where grandpa stayed the last weeks of his life. You could feel her standing next to his bed, waiting, waiting for his body to give up. His body was stronger than his will to live. After a month of sick leave from work I’m back. It’s hard. But I’m trying. Don’t really know how to live without them. But I guess I’ll find a way.
They may technically have been my grandparent. But they raised me. They where as close to being my parents as anybody has ever been. I wasn’t their daughter. But I was their child.