So I just got back to the apartment, and I should really be studying for my midterm tomorrow, but something pretty spectacular happened today that I thought I should log. I was walking up to Lafayette/Astor with Danny after we grabbed some McDonald's and he was talking about how one of the things that made him the saddest was seeing elderly people eating alone, or being alone in general. I told him how I agreed, and we just talked about how we would never want to see any of our parents living that sort of life. Then, out of nowhere, for the first time, I started talking about my grandma. It was the first time, ever, that I talked about her in the past tense openly and reminiscently without feeling a shooting pain go through my chest or having my tear ducts fill up. I wouldn't say that the reflection/ loneliness is over, but I would say that shock/denial, pain/guilt, and anger/bargaining, are on their way to being completely surpassed.
With that said,
Love and miss you, grandma
There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of you
