I had a dream that I was the last to find out that Nan had died… no one bothered to tell me until the funeral preparations began, and it was accidental — I found out when someone asked me which photos of her I thought she would prefer. In my dream, I fell to my knees and lost it. I woke up and cried. Too similar to the day she died… when I arrived at the hospital, she has just gone. I never got to say goodbye. I wasn’t there when she died. She’d been there for me my whole fucking life and I wasn’t there when she died. How was I supposed to know not to go to work that day… I was planning on the fact that I would need to take days off down the road for her recovery — taking her to appointments when her sisters went home, having bad days where she just needed someone at home. I didn’t know she was dying that day. Why the fuck did I even go to work?! I should have been there with her. I’d have rather been there and held onto her as she left, than running up four flights of stairs only to find my entire family sobbing.
I know it’s selfish of me. She’s not hurting anymore. If some form of the afterlife is real, she’s with people she loved now — Bubba, Nana Homa, Allan. But it doesn’t change the fact that I fucking miss her. I just want to hear her voice again, I don’t even care if it’s just to tell me to clean my apartment. I can’t believe how much has changed in the little over one year since she’s been gone. I thought thinking of her would be easier by now, that I could think of her and just be happy with the memories. Usually, I guess, I can kind of force myself into that mentality. But today I’m still pissed off and feel like there’s a giant fucking hole in my life where she used to be. And I feel so shitty that I wasn’t there for her the way she was always there for me.