The picture is a little blurry but I drew this up for my grandmom, or as I and my brother and cousins called her, Gammy. Her two year death date is coming up very soon, November 17th. Her and I were extremely close, I lived with her for eleven years before she died. Her death was and still is extremely hard on me. I still remember my mom waking me up at 5:30 or so a.m. that day with tears in her eyes to tell me what happened, and I remember coming home the night before after I had surgery, and I came home just on time. At first it didn’t really hit me. We all knew she was sick, and that she didn’t have very long to go. I thought that had prepared me, and for the first few days, I looked at it as she wasn’t suffering anymore. I don’t know how much I believe in a “better place,” but whatever happens after death, it’s gotta be better than the pain I know she was going through during the last few months of life. Then, it hit me, and it hit me hard. It hit me hard at the viewing and even harder at the funeral. She was gone, I couldn’t talk to her in the morning when I was getting ready for school and nobody but us was awake, and there was an empty space on the couch that she’d always be sitting or sleeping on and I’d see her there every day and night, that was all normal to me for so long and it just wasn’t the same anymore. I started grieving by sleeping on the couch where she used to. It made me feel better, I can’t really explain why, but it did. I swear, one time I thought I felt a hand touch me and normally me being the jumpy person I am I’d be petrified, but again, it was comforting to me. It felt like she was still there. I don’t know if that makes me a little nuts, but it made me feel better when it happened. All of this feels like it happened yesterday, but it’s been nearly two years. She was my best friend. We fought, and let me tell you we got so mad at each other sometimes you wouldn’t even know, but we still loved each other and I knew that she was always there when I needed someone no matter how mad we might have gotten. To this day, it kills me inside that she isn’t here. Some days it’s worse than others, but not not one goes past that I don’t think about her even once. Two years later, it still sucks, and it still hurts more than I can explain. This drawing is something I want to get tattooed in memory of her, and I know that she didn’t have any tattoos and you couldn’t pay her enough to get one, but she’s always been supportive of me and what I want to do and everything. She had a heart of gold, and she deserves to still be here today.
06/03/1950 - 11/17/2012