In 9 days, it is March 7th.

A day I dread.

A day I am prepared to grieve.

A day that I don’t want to exist.

My grandma passed away March 7th, 2018.

I’ve been healing.

I’ve been grieving.

At times, I didn’t do this in the healthiest way.

In the past two years.

I’ve cut.

I’ve drank.

I’ve wanted it to end.

I’ve wanted the pain to end.

Looking back on the past two years, I cannot even begin to explain the depth of despair yet redemption I have seen in my life. Sometimes I hate how much of an optimist I am. But honestly, if I wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t be alive. I have gotten used to the pain but that has allowed me to see the glorious beauty that lays beneath. There is hope, there is joy, there is life beneath the surface of utter despair.

In the past two years.

I found my passions.

I accepted myself.

I learned how to live in a world without my grandmother.

That world was dark at first. It was so dark. And at times, it can still be dark. But… that’s where I was forced to find beauty in the madness, to make sense of joy while in the fires of hell, and ultimately to find her in new places.

We as humans are wired to feel, to love. We long for it. We long for the day the pain ends, the grief ends, and we search for answers along the way that will help us make sense of why. I certainly believe the death of someone close to us, is a gentle yet subtle reminder that we have that capacity to love. We have that capacity to feel every emotion of what it means to be human. We feel the anger towards whatever took them, we feel the magnitude of grief, but we feel the joy that they left and the impact that they made on you. But ultimately, we know they would want us to live life to the utmost.