Bandaid

My favorite person died today and I am absolutely devastated.  Walking into Grandmama's house without her there was unbearable--everything has Grandmama in it...the furniture, the family photos blanketing walls and shelves, the piano from the Keoun piano shop, her choice in artwork, the way the table's dressed, the note on the phone that is years old that says "We love grammy!"  It was so bizarre to smell her in the house but have my dad just say "Goodnight dad."  And that was it.

I really can't believe it.  I think in my head there was the sick Grandmama and well Grandmama.  Sick Grandmama needed all our love, prayers, and attention.  She was the Grandmama we could endlessly compliment without some retort or "No, you're the beautiful one!"  Sick Grandmama died, but well Grandmama didn't come back.

If I magically get cast in my dream role in my dream show this summer at the theater she and my grandfather have taken me to every year for as long as I can't remember, she won't be standing quietly smiling behind the rest of the family as I come out the stage door, prouder than anyone else.  I won't get anymore random "I love you" phone calls.  If I feel like I'm an awful person, I can't have the reassurance that the best person in the world unconditionally adores me.

I remind myself of this reality, it is like ripping a bandaid off.  Everytime.  And that cliche-d thing you hear people saying--a nightmare you don't wake up from?  Also applicable here.  I half expected her to walk into the room from her bathroom or the den as I sat soaking it in in her bedroom.  Nope.

I'm certain I've scared the dickens out of my mother.  Tonight was the first time in a really long time she has seen me cry; I could probably count the number of times I've been upset in front of her on one hand.  For a theater major, I am one of the least vulnerable and heart-on-your-sleeve people you will meet.  I never get emotional in front of others.  I hate it.

This reality is going to take a long time to sink in.  I have no idea when it will be okay--when I won't just ache.  I am certainly not okay now.  This is not okay.

Grandmama was absolutely supposed to be invincible.  I knew she thought she'd at least make it through the summer a few weeks ago...Grandmama was always first to hear of my mischievous travel plans, and I'd tentatively planned to live in NYC for three weeks in July.  When I told her this, her face dropped and she expressed how upset she was over this news.  I know she knew she didn't have a terribly long time, but I really didn't think she anticipated the brevity of the remainder of her life at that point.  She wanted me to stay in Dallas in July.  And the second I saw that face drop, I'd immediately changed my mind and resolved not to go.   Now, who knows what I'll do?

I am in dire need of some re-assessment time.  Who do I want to be friends with?  What are my priorities?  How do I avoid depression while not halting my life and obligations/responsibilities?  What do I want to focus on (theater? acting? family? writing? music? dance)?

Now is a good time to rebuild and I would like to do so healthily.  I can strive to be more Katharine-esque (in the first Katharine sort of way) but I need to stay myself.  Part of why she loved me is because I am so different.  I need to remember that.

The most important thing I can do is talk about her to the kids--Kalli, Daniel, Jake, and Heidi--and keep her legacy alive.  Everyone should be lucky enough to spend two decades with the best person on earth.

I love you Grandmama and I miss you more than anything.  I am sure you will be a stellar social chairman of heaven.  I am also certain you were meant to be my guardian angel and that you will do a flawless job at that.  Praying to you tonight.