Rant about death.
Mary Alden, December 31, 1920 - September 17, 1995.
My grandmother died 6 years ago today. She lived in the apartment downstairs from me and I spent more time with her in the 14 years that I had with her, than I spent with anyone else in my life. I went through her apartment in the morning to say goodbye to her before I left for school. When I came home, it was straight to her apartment to tell her all about school and do my homework. On rainy days we played cards and made brownies. On summer days she sat by the pool while I swam. On sleepless nights, I'd go downstairs and eat peanut butter and crackers with her. She was my support, my wall which I could always lean on. The day she died, part of me died along with her. Thinking about it for too long can still make me cry. Sometimes I dream about her death all over again and wake up crying. That's a day with an empty feeling haunting me. Sometimes I wake from very real dreams thinking she is still alive and it hurts all over again to realize that she isn't.
Moment of silence please.
Thank you.