The Way It Goes

A year ago I lost the person I loved most. My grandma, June.

She was the most influential person in my life. I am me because of her. I am so grateful I lived so close to her my whole life so I could experience the most special memories.

I used to think she was magical. She was like a fairy that granted me anything I wished for. When my family and I went to Maine and tried popovers for the first time, she made them for me the morning I got back, paired with every topping and breakfast side I could think of. When I went to sleep away camp and discovered manicotti, she taught me how to make them during our next sleepover. We went on a shopping spree for every season. I got anything I ever asked her for.

I thought it was magic, but in reality, it was her generosity and kindness that influenced her every decision. All she did was care and love for her family.

My favorite memories growing up involved my Grandma. We would play ‘salon’ every time I slept over, where she would braid my hair, put makeup on me, and paint my nails. We would go to the pool every day in the summer. I would help her with the garden; I will never forget the purple flowers we would plant together every summer. We would hang out with her friends in her condo, and was treated like a princess by every single one. I would get to decide if I was going to sleep at June’s or her sister DeeDee’s, who lived 5 steps away. 

I think the hardest part about everything was when her health started to go downhill in 2020. She was still physically there, but her personality and memory was disappearing. I learned how you can lose someone when they are still here. I have never felt that before.

Now a year later, I feel her in me whatever I do. I see her in the places I go, the things I see. I know it’s her when there is a rainbow in the sky after a dreary day. I know it’s her when I wake up and see a ladybug sitting on my clock. I know it’s her when I feel the sun and its warmth shining on me, giving me a hug. I know it’s her when I hear a little voice in my head telling me to go for something. 

The day before the anniversary of her passing, my friends and I were out to breakfast at a cute cafe. There was a little girl, probably three years old, trying to climb up onto the empty chair at our table. She kept on waving and smiling at us. My friend asked her mom what her name was. Junie. That was her right there saying hi to me.

Grief is a weird thing. It comes and goes. Most of the time I am happy when I think about June. And my memories with her come flooding back to me. But every once in a while something will remind me of her, and I get so upset about the fact of never seeing her again. 

I have learned that grief isn’t something that fades. It changes shape. It becomes part of who you are. My grandma is now woven into my life in so many little ways. In my favorite foods, in songs we used to listen to, in blooming flowers, in moments in my life that feel like magic. I carry her with me always, and I take every sign from the universe that she gives me.

If you’ve lost someone who made your world feel a little more like home, I hope you find some comfort reading this. And I hope you keep noticing the small, beautiful reminders that love never really leaves us, and our loved ones never leave our sides.

I love you so much Grandma. I miss you every day. I know you are with me.

And that’s the way it goes,

Lids