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November 25, 2015

{It's OK to Grieve}

I'm having a rough time right now. That's why I haven't really been posting that much. Not that I don't have anything to be happy about. If you follow me on any social media then you know I'm not all depressing posts (not all the time anyway). But for the last month I've just been very emotional and frankly, sad. That's the best way to put it. I'm sad.

We are coming up on the one year mark of my grandpas passing (it still feels like someone is stabbing me in the stomach to say that..). I can't believe how fast a year has gone. I just keep remembering what was going on last year at this time. He was in the hospital. Battling the disease that eventually took him from us. We were all told he didn't really want anyone up there (though I'm not totally sure that was true to be honest). I was the first to say that I felt like this would pass. That it wasn't as serious as my grandmother (who has a tendency to be overly dramatic) was making it out to be. I'd never seen him sick like that before. I'd always seen him strong, always tired, the man could fall asleep anywhere lol, but strong. I'm sure it was just my minds way of helping me cope with him not being well. Then again, maybe it was my heart trying to keep itself together so it wouldn't allow my mind to think past him being OK. I don't know, what I do know, is that losing him was the single most horrific thing I ever been through in my life.

For 31 years that man was my safety net. For 31 years I could depend on him for anything. Stuck in the snow? Call Ivan. Kids sick at school and you can't get a hold of grandma? Call Ivan. Back itches? Go see Ivan lol. The thought never crossed my mind that he wouldn't be there to pick up the slack. That he wouldn't be there to give advice or to make me laugh. The thought never crossed my mind. I was sure he would live forever.

But here I am, a year later. A whole year without that safety net. Without that one person I could count on no matter what happened. And I can feel the difference in the world around me. Going to my grandparents house isn't the same. It has always been like home to me (since I grew up there) but in the last year I've felt the difference. I don't want to be there. There's nothing of him there anymore. His clothes aren't in the closet (they were gone a while ago), his cologne isn't sitting on the dresser (Gaige has it in his room here). All the things that made the house his, they're gone. I don't even feel him when I'm sitting in the living room. I wonder if he's still there. Or maybe he roams from house to house to check on us and the great-grandkids? I'd like to think that's the case. I probably sound crazy.

People have told me It's OK to grieve and to take as much time as you need. I've heard no two people grieve the same. I try to remember that when I'm face to face with the fact that everything my grandpa worked his life away for, has been sold to the highest bidder. (Can you hear the annoyed tone of my voice when I'm saying that?)

I miss him. I wasn't aware just how much you could miss someone until I lost him. And the fact that there isn't a single place I can go and still feel his memory, makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. But I don't. Because I'm an adult. And adults don't throw fits because they're not ready for so much change right? On second thought, there is one place that is untouched (as far as I know) from when he was alive.

The motor home. It's still sitting in my grandparents drive way, despite the fact that my uncle insisted on moving it. For what reason I don't know since it has no breaks (and we could have told him that since Ivan told D about it when they talked the last Halloween he was here). It moved to the end of their drive and that was it. Its the one thing that I know won't be changed without my say so, because it's in my name. It's mine. It has been mine since I was a little girl. And it'll continue to be mine. I love that hunk of junk. I love it even more now that I know it's where his memory will be the strongest. Because I'll make sure it stays that way. I don't think he would mind if I changed it. In fact, I know he wouldn't. But the only things changing in there are what has to be done. And that'll take time..and money. So for now, it stays the way he had it. I would hope that people would respect me enough to leave it alone. I would hope.

So that's where I'm at right now. Sad. Coming up on an anniversary of a death I still have a hard time coping with. But here I am, still breathing. Something I thought for sure I would stop doing the day he died. Something I find it hard to do most nights. But I'm here, none the less.

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