My Grandmother

          My grandmother was named Helen. As I grew up, she was my best friend. In a world that didn’t want to hear my voice, she was the escape. My parents divorced when I was going on three years old. Unfortunately for my mother, I was a daddy’s girl and cried my heart out at the mere mention of him. My father wasn’t ever around much because he had preoccupations with alcohol and drug addictions. Eventually, when I was well into my adulthood, he would overcome the alcohol addiction. The drug addiction went from anything illegal that he could get his hands on to only being the prescriptions his doctors gave him for pain and other medical issues he obtained. Anyway, I’m getting off track. My grandmother (on my mother’s side) died in late 2009 from a heart attack she had  while recovering from having had breast cancer. She was 74  (I think) when she passed. Her favorite color was red. Hence why this is like this tonight. She was so into the color red that she wore it nearly daily and always dreamed of having a red Lincoln Continental. I have many fond memories of her…and of my grandfather as well. I don’t know why but the older I become, the more I like the color as well. Up until recently, my favorite color was always blue. Oh how I loved blue! I think of my grandmother often because no matter what I had going on in life, I  could ALWAYS go to her with it and never fear judgment. She was always compassionate with me. Grandma was my rock my entire life up until she died. Then I was left alone in regards to having someone to turn to when I needed to vent or talk about something. My mother asked me why I never talk to HER about things I worry about or things that are going on in my life. I told her, “You aren’t Grandma. You pass judgment on what I say instantly or you  tell me you don’t want to hear about it.” I’m a product of a bad marriage…a marriage worse than many and not as bad as some. My father would force my mother to have sex with him because there was no such thing as raping your wife. She’s never said it but I’m sure I resulted from one of those times. I have always known it in my heart. I love her because she’s my mother but she most certainly has nothing on my grandmother. I miss my Grandma. I wish she were still around as long as she wouldn’t be suffering. She was compassionate, caring, supportive,  would rarely give advice but it was usually good when she did, and had an amazing sense of humor. When it came to funny comments, you never knew what she was going to say next. Oh how I miss that! The truth of the matter is this- I will never have that closeness with anyone ever again. It sucks but I know too well just how true it is. She’s gone and I’m here wishing she is happy in Heaven. I’m jealous though because all the family gone before us get to be around her and I  cannot be. Life isn’t fair in many ways. It’s a tough lesson we all learn at some point in our lives. Even if we don’t have the strength to go on, the world still will. The days will keep coming and passing us by. I just keep telling myself it’s one day closer to seeing her again. God only knows how much I look forward to it.

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