grief

earlier this month marked 28 years since I lost my first best friend. my Nanna.

the details of that day still linger in my mind as if it were yesterday. 

my Mom's best friend checked me out early from school. when I asked where we were going, she told me my Nanna's house. I was so happy. it was my favorite place after all. on the way there, we stopped at Veri Best Donuts and as I counted out how many we would need for everyone. she said we needed one less number than I came up with. I told her she was forgetting Nanna! she bought the number I said and we went on our way. when we got to the house my parents were there, along with my aunt and uncle and my Grandaddy. I handed out all the doughnuts and then started to wander the house looking for Nanna to give hers to her. my Mom stopped me and tried her best to explain to me that she had passed away. in my mind, my Mom's friend had told me we were coming to see her. so she couldn't possibly be gone. I continued looking for her. at some point, I began to understand. from there, the details get a little more fuzzy. but I know I cried until my throat hurt. and as far as I remember, that was the first time that had happened. 

a year ago today, I called my friend Brad for some advice. I was helping coordinate a concert for Clement Arts the next day. he was the founder and was also a musician. he was able to talk me through my questions and made me feel more at ease about some of the details. 

the next morning I woke up to a text from his wife, Katie. it was the kind I had to read several times. because surely I missed something. I just spoke with him yesterday. and now he is gone. we fumbled thru the concert that evening with tears in our eyes and have done the same through a lot of this year. 

it's been about 5 months since the day we last saw our baby boy. we dropped him off at daycare that morning but were not allowed to pick him up. he was whisked away from us just as quickly as he had come to us. 

through tears I pleaded for a chance to say goodbye. the caseworker agreed to letting us have a final visit at the DFCS office. I called to let her know we had arrived and as soon as I spoke I heard my sweet son yell "Mommy!". we spent the next 20 minutes awkwardly and tearfully soaking up a few final memories with him. I haven't heard his voice since. 

as I type this all, the pain in my throat is just at strong as it was when I was 6 years old. I am no stranger to grief and I know enough to know that time doesn't heal everything. 

I still miss my Nanna every time I cut up strawberries or apples for my kids, and think of how she served them to me with a bowl of sugar. 

I wish I could pick up the phone and call Brad when I have a crazy idea for an event or I need to figure out some last minute details. 

I dreamt last night that I was holding my precious boy. I knew it wasn't real and that I would soon wake up and he would be gone. so I simply enjoyed the weight of his body on mine. 

some days like these, going forward seems impossible. life is hard and the grief we carry is heavy. but I know we must keep hope. tomorrow brings hope that one day it will all feel a little lighter. no matter how heavy the grief feels, it is what is left of love that was even greater. and for that love, I am thankful.