February 18

Until last year I would hear about someone losing a grandparent, and I believed it was very difficult but would think "At least it's not a parent, right? Grandparents are old, we expect them to leave us sooner rather than later." But so many still leave too soon. Probably all of them do, really.

One year ago today was probably the hardest, saddest, most heart-crushing day I've ever lived through. I was sure I had felt the saddest sadness you can imagine, the deepest anguish I could ever know. But I hadn't, until February 18, 2017. My heart was completely broken when I lost one of the most important people in my life—one of the three people I counted as a parent.

She was the person who let me climb into bed with her when I was scared of the dark while sleeping at her house, the person who wanted me to eat my tuna sandwich but gave in with ice cream after a while, the one person who would always want to hang out with me Friday nights. She was creative and cooky and different and clever and sharp and strong and the only person like her. 

She had to go because her body couldn't handle life anymore, and neither could her poor, damaged heart. It was old and tired and broken, literally and emotionally. She had people who loved her so much surrounding her, and our hearts broke that evening when she slipped away. She fought to stay before, and then fought to leave because when she was ready, she was ready. 

I loved her so much, even when she was driving me a little bit crazy and I wasn't sure how to please her. I still love her and I miss her every single day. And I'll never forget everything she was.