4

Wake up, hold my breath, and feel out that missing piece.
It's that day, again.  That time of year where memories are not always shiny and lovely.  That day where life changed.  Or was it the weeks or the months leading to it?  The weeks after?  The years after?
Is it familiar yet?
That missing piece.
Does it hurt to find it again?
It's not like it used to be, where the thought of missing, gone, passed on were consuming and terrible.
No more crying and sadness waking up in the middle of the night or with a phone in hand with no way to call.
It still is sore and sad.  A deep sad that goes to the heart and right on through.  But now, there is joy, too.
Joy.
To have known and talked and shared and listened and loved.
To have been loved and cared for.
Joy to have had time at the kitchen table.  On the deck.  Christmases and Thanksgivings and 4th of July's. For the recipes and secret that love really is that special ingredient.
Joy for the honesty that life isn't all perfection and simple answers.  That you can and should handle yourself with class and dignity, right to the very end.  That a person can be flawed, imperfect, human, yet still be beautiful and have that beauty shine through their actions.

My Gram was an amazing woman.
There will always be a piece of me that misses and mourns her.  But growing around it, finding root where there was just sadness, is such joy and thankfulness.  I knew her.  Got to share and spend time.  She made my life better.  Made me better.  Showed me how to keep doing better.  Glad for all that.