The professor helping me with my senior project once told me he never knew either of his grandmothers. Thinking back now, he missed out on so much. Grandmothers are the most amazing people in the world. Grandparents in general are. They're the ones you can get into trouble with, the ones who spoil you and love you unconditionally. At least, when you have the right grandparents. I had three of those kind of grandparents. I think I am one of the luckiest people because of that. Not everyone does.

But grandmothers. I've had both kinds. The kind that has little love to give out; the kind that calls aunts to come help out because she can't connect with the grandkids; the kind that makes loving grandchildren all about herself and a contest to see how great she can be, without ever really loving that grandchild. And I've also had the type that tries to learn the names of cartoon characters even though she can't pronounce Japanese words; the kind that knows exactly what you're going to order at a restaurant and what juice to bring down when visiting, the kind your parents don't usually buy for you; the kind that buys your pets Christmas presents each year even though she hardly ever sees them; the kind that knew all your friends and even treated the friends well; the kind that cares about your other side of the family, even though she rarely saw them too; the kind that remembers every dinky little gift you've given them and treats it like it was the absolute best thing ever; the kind that always has a hug and kind words even when you were just punished by your parents; the kind that would snuggle with you in bed when you visited her, and read part of some silly crime novel each night. Grammy was everything. Will always be everything.

Dad doesn't want me going over to see her. He says she's not herself. But I miss her already. I miss who she was. I would give anything to snuggle with her in bed and read some Nancy Drew-type novel with her. Or to go out into the trees and play house. Or to ride bikes with her and get scared about possible foxes nearby so that she can reassure me that everything was fine. Or go to the camp and make houses and buildings out of little rocks and twigs by the lake. Or go out rafting with her on Goodyear Lake and take a book and read it. Or play Bargain Hunter or some other board game from the fifties and sixties. Or watch movies with her only to hear her try to retell it later, turn a two-hour movie into a three-hour explanation. Or play school with her and try to teach her French that she loved listening to but could never pronounce. Or play piano with her, because she was really good and I always wanted to play like her. All the silly little things about her, I miss. All the things that I can see Mom got from her.

All the things you don't realize you miss until she's not herself anymore. I wish I was still at home so I can be with Mom. It can't be easy being all alone at home right now. At least she has Ginger. Even having a pet can make a world of difference when you're grieving. I know I wish I had my cats. Because you can cry to them and they can't judge you for crying, they can't cry and make it harder, you don't feel foolish or silly crying in front of them. And you don't have to worry about being strong for them. You can just let yourself cry and they're there to snuggle with you. But I really want to be with Mom right now. Crying with her isn't going to be easy. But I need her. I can't imagine what she's going through. She would tell herself that her parents would live forever because she didn't want to think about what would happen when they don't. Just like how I pretend my cats will live forever.

I didn't want to think about life after Grammy or Grampy either. I still don't. They just were always healthy and there. I took them for granted. I never really stopped and appreciated that they were there or that someday they won't be.

And now it's too late. Grammy will never be who she was. I just want to go hold her and never let go. I want to believe that that could somehow work. I love that silly woman so much. Just as much as I love Pop-Pop and Grampy. Those are just three amazing people that I never thought I'd have to live without. But my whole life I've been closest to Grammy. I was her dollie. I'll always be her dollie.

It would help if I were closer to Donna, Nathan, and Emily. I'm close to Donna and John, I guess. But like, with Pop-Pop, it was so nice to have Marissa, Lindsay, Liz, Sue, Jordan, and Jessica there. We all supported each other. Liz was there for Dad. I know Mom and Donna are there for each other. But like, I wish Nathan and Emily and I could be there for each other like we were on Dad's side. But at least I still have Dad's family now. And I have Dad. I don't want to make Mom feel worse. So I'll cry to Dad for now. I just wish I were home still so I could be with Mom. Maybe I'll go tomorrow night.