She was terminally ill, and I was in denial. I don’t believe that good people can just leave the world. At least not without a fight, and boy did she fight.

On June 16, 2013 I walked into the living room expecting to say Happy Father’s Day and hear the plans of the day ahead. Instead I got told to sit down. The look on my parents faces was unsettling, and I wasn’t prepared for what they had to say.

“Your grandma died in her sleep last night.”

I didn’t say anything; the tears that fell onto my lap were greater than the words that could have come out my mouth. What are you supposed to say knowing that the glue that held the whole family together had just been discontinued?

Silence fell over the room, and pain filled my heart. I didn’t know how much my life would change.

She was everything you could ever want in a grandma. She got you what you wanted even when your mom said no. She let you sleep in her comfy bed when you weren’t feeling good. She cooked up a storm and never let you leave her house hungry. She gave the best hugs so you would feel safe. She just loved like you never felt loved before.

And now she’s gone.

On June 15, my last day with her, everything felt different. I didn’t feel the same sadness. I felt…OK. Nurses I had never seen before were coming to visit her. Even my aunts came to visit, and that doesn’t happen often. She didn’t look, as the doctors labeled her, “terminally ill.” She looked pretty good. She was laughing, eating and looking healthy. Why couldn’t she just stay like that?

I wish I would have known that was her last day. I would have laughed a little louder with her. I would have smiled a little more at her. I would have hugged her a little tighter. I would have never let go.

It’s been almost three years and I’m still in denial. I don’t want to believe she’s gone forever.

In less than 24 hours my day went from the best to the worst. I can’t go a day without thinking something bad will happen. Which caused my anxiety. Because she was everything to me, I struggle to believe happiness can exist anymore. Which caused my depression.

I’m not blaming her. It’s my fault I haven’t coped with it. She impacted my life so much while she was here, and continues to do so now that she’s not. I just need her back. I miss her so much.

But I know she’s happy. Happy somewhere where it doesn’t hurt to breathe. Happy somewhere where it doesn’t hurt to walk. Happy somewhere where no one can tell her what to do.

Happy somewhere where I know we’ll be together again.

I’ll love you always.

R.I.P. A.C.E