I miss my grandma more than I know what to do with.
It didn’t hit me at the funeral. I thought I was coping. I got through it, spoke to people, did what you’re meant to do. Then weeks later it just slammed into me out of nowhere. Like my body realised before my head did.
Since then it’s been constant. Not crying all the time, just this heavy pull that won’t leave me alone. I think about her more than I say out loud. Little things. Random memories. Stuff that shouldn’t hurt this much but does.
I keep going to her grave. Over and over. I don’t even always know why. I just feel like I need to be there. It’s the only place where it feels real and quiet at the same time. I sit there and feel close to her and empty all at once.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this wrong. If I’m supposed to stop going. If people would think it’s too much. But it helps, even when it hurts. Especially then.
It didn’t hit me at the funeral. I thought I was coping. I got through it, spoke to people, did what you’re meant to do. Then weeks later it just slammed into me out of nowhere. Like my body realised before my head did.
Since then it’s been constant. Not crying all the time, just this heavy pull that won’t leave me alone. I think about her more than I say out loud. Little things. Random memories. Stuff that shouldn’t hurt this much but does.
I keep going to her grave. Over and over. I don’t even always know why. I just feel like I need to be there. It’s the only place where it feels real and quiet at the same time. I sit there and feel close to her and empty all at once.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this wrong. If I’m supposed to stop going. If people would think it’s too much. But it helps, even when it hurts. Especially then.
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