D-Day and a Funeral

Today is D-Day number 18. It is also the day we celebrate the life of my beloved ‘Nana.’ Every D-Day I usually write a book of emotion, it naturally just flows out of me but on this D-Day eve it’s different. I can feel all of the emotion inside, just waiting to come out, but I’m not sure if it’s because of D-Day or because I have to say goodbye to the woman who has always been there for me my entire life, second only to my Mom. Though the reason my Mom is such an incredible Mom and Nana is because of her Mom, my Nana.

The emotions blur together almost as if they are a cohesive and interwoven trauma. My Nana was the one that always worried for me. She told me how she would lay awake nights praying and fretting over any problem or hurt going on with any of her family; her husband, her 4 kids (and their spouses), her 12 grandkids (and their spouses), and her 17 great grandkids. She loved each and every person with her whole heart and mind and soul and would equally worry over each of us whenever anyone was having an issue.

I’ve been told that I was ‘grandparent spoiled’ as I had all my grandparents and even some great grandparents in my life until my 30s. I’ve been super blessed in that area. I’ve noticed, as I’ve gotten older, we all have areas we have been super blessed. I always used to tell friends, who had a  long time love in their life, how lucky they were and how I wished I had that (I’m still mad at my husband for not approaching me in 1983, when he wanted to but was scared I’d turn him down. We could have been celebrating 30 plus years together now). And then as a parent, I saw what so many others had that I didn’t. When Dave was diagnosed I began to mourn SO many things I would never see because of autism. And every year I am reminded of that, seeing my friends enjoy so many milestones that most parents enjoy. I am happy for my friends, but it does bring me painful reminders of things I will never experience. But thinking of all of the memories of my Nana (and Papa) remind me how truly and incredibly blessed I am in that area. Family is the area I was not only blessed with but truly hit the jackpot. How do you say goodbye to a kind of love like that?

I have had relatively minimal loss in my life. I have lost family and it was hard. I’ve had tough luck in love and that was hard but the loss of my Nana (and Papa), has been exceptionally hard. How do I say goodbye to the woman I went to visit at least twice a year, to the woman that I spoke to (or tried), every Sunday? How do I say goodbye to the woman who was my biggest fan and would have done absolutely anything for me at any given moment? How do I continue through this life without her? I think I do it the same way I’ve dealt with the trauma of dealing with what happened to my precious boy. Though the situations are completely different, grief IS grief. Loss is loss. Pain is pain. Though we all grieve in different ways, we all grieve, and it all hurts, no matter what it is.

So how will I say goodbye to a love like this? I will grieve and mourn, whenever the emotions arise and need release. And don’t let anyone tell you there is an expiration date on how long you can grieve. I remember one time I was having a ‘moment of sadness’ about Dave. I remember someone asking me what was wrong and when I told them it was about Dave (and it had maybe been 5 years in), I apologized for my emotion telling the person I knew I should ‘be over it’ by now. They responded by saying, “Be over it? You are still living this life every single day. Your trial has not ended so why would your grief?” That brought me incredible comfort, knowing there was nothing wrong with my sadness, when it came.

So, I will grieve the incredible loss of my beloved Nana just like I grieve for my boy. I will grieve this today, and for however long I feel the need to grieve. When the tears stop, I will remember the good stuff. 360 days a year I will look to the good, to the great memories, to how lucky I’ve been, and to how so many people have it so much worse than I. Then, I will allow myself those few times a year, ‘milestones,’ that are bound to bring sadness. And after that, I will pick myself up again and move on in gratitude and thankfulness and most of all, hope, knowing that someday we will be reunited again … and this time, for eternity.