The above picture is of me (6 years ago, so forgive the ridiculous tan and the teeny tiny limbs) and the most amazing woman I have ever met–my grandmother.

I wrote a post on Thursday about how she was sick and that I hoped she could make it through it. How she’s so strong and I thought she could fight what was attacking her body and mind.I didn’t post it because I got distracted and started on something else.

I wish I would have posted it, because  I was wrong. She passed away last night at 83 years young, and that news truly hit me like a ton of bricks. I kept thinking, even as they told me she wasn’t going to make it that they were WRONG. They had to be. She wasn’t here long enough in my mind.

When my brother told me, my response to him was “okay, goodnight” and then I hung up the phone. I didn’t know what else to do but cry and try to think of happy memories, instead of being sad over her loss.

My father sent me some old family pictures a few months ago, and amongst them was Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding announcement. It stated the University she went to before she was married. I never knew she went to college, and when I asked her what she went to school for she said “I went for fun, stayed until the money ran out and then came home and worked”. When I talked to her about my fears regarding childbirth, she told me I should have a C-Section with Molly because she had four and they were “just wonderful!”. That’s one thing about her–she always knew how to make me laugh, even with the truth.

I want her to know how much her life has meant to me. How wonderful it was to spend Friday nights at her house, where I could make popcorn with tons of butter and watch Friday night Nickelodeon without my brother interrupting. How much I enjoyed it when she let me pretend I was a surgeon on my Raggedy Ann dolls, cutting them apart and then sewing them back together with her sewing kit. How even though everything she cooked was burnt, it still tasted good just because she made it. One of my favorite things to do when I was younger was dress up in her fur coat and high heels, with her clip on earrings and sparkly shirts from the 40′s and strut around the house like a grown up.

We went through her old photos today, trying to find ones to use for a memory board and quite honestly it was a humorous experience. There were pictures of her making funny faces, serious pictures of her and my grandfather, with my dad ruining the picture by sneakily holding up his middle finger. My favorites were the ones where she was playing with my brother and I, or in one picture just my brother but I wanted her attention too, darnit (go figure).

The pictures made me realize what a wonderful life she lived. She was the most loving, wonderful, caring, giving, special woman I have ever met. I am proud to say that she is my grandma, and even though she’s gone, she’s alive and always will be in my heart. I think that’s what matters the most.