She Lived Loud, Loved Hard, Left Me Broken

Yesterday, I lost one of the most important people in my life. My nana.

I don’t even know how to put into words what it feels like—like someone quietly took a piece of the world away, and somehow, everything looks the same, but it isn’t. It won’t ever be.

She was a firecracker when she needed to be and the gentlest soul when you least expected it. She was stubborn in the way only grandmothers can be, and she loved with this fierce, quiet kind of love that made you feel safe just by being near her.

I keep thinking about all the moments she won’t be here for—big ones, small ones, the things I always wanted her to see. I wanted her to see me be successful in securing a house I could call a home. To find true love and be treated the way she always told me I should be. To meet my future kids, the ones I know she was waiting to see. And the pain of never having given her that will never lessen. Because she deserved to witness all of it, and I wanted her to be part of it.

I’ll never forget how lucky of a child I was to have somewhere to go to adventure in the country, running between the trees and rocks that used to look like mountains but now seem like mere boulders. I’ll never forget the umpteen Avon bath products I used at the farmhouse, or the iron skillet pancakes I dreamed of for breakfast—soft in the middle, just how she knew I loved them. Watching Touched by an Angel while her hands worked through my little head of knots, gently untangling as we watched together. Fast forward to my teen years, and that turned into us watching CSI and munching on chips and dip—she even showed me the best hiding spots for the good snacks!

Most of all, I’ll never forget the hope and faith she had in me—that I could do hard things and that I’d make it in this world. Though she knew there were things I wanted to experience while we had time together, she never held it against me or rushed me. She always said I was doing things in my own time.

My poppa always talked about "the man on the moon"—he would always point out that the moon could often look as though there was a face on it. Poppa used to look through binoculars for hours into the sky, admiring the stars but mostly the moon. The other night when you were called home, the moon was so full—so bright. I can’t help but hope and wish that was Poppa calling you home to him.

I’ll always carry her with me, in the stories, the laughter, the things she taught me without even knowing she was teaching. But right now, it just feels like there’s a hole where she used to be.

If you’ve ever lost someone who felt like the center of your world, you know. You know how quiet everything gets after. You know how it aches in places you didn’t even know you had.

I hate the finality of this. Things will never be the same again. I may be able to do hard things, but this… this feels too hard to overcome.

This one’s for her. For my nana. Always loved, never forgotten, forever touched by an angel. 

S&S


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