Dealing with my grandma's death is harder than I thought. She was 71. That's still too young to go in my family.
At work I deal with a lot of people. It's hard to talk to old ladies. Some of them have the same gestures as my grandma. Some smile the way my grandma did. Some show the same kindness to me in a sentence. Calling me sweetheart brings a tear to my eye. It's simple things that set me off. Watching an older woman walk around and think out loud totally reminds me of her. I loved how she called herself an old woman, when she totally coulda passed as being my mother.
Everytime I went to Austria I could count on my grandma being around and asking me questions slowly in German as to make sure I understood correctly. Sandra, do you have a boyfriend ? Sandra, can you cook ? Now I am going back to bury her and realize that I am glad I took the opportunity to visit her when I could.
I bought a plane ticket to fly and attend her funeral. It's the least I could do for her. I am not looking forward to the trip. It's very short, and I am gonna face a lot of sadness that I just don't want to face. I don't want to see her body with no life. But I want to be with my aunts and cousins and I want to put this pain to rest. And I believe this will help me heal.
I just hope that she knows that I loved her very much. I know she loved me.