March Madness

This month sucks. We’re only five days in and I’m pretty much over it. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that, yet again, we were pounded by some snow this morning. I love winter weather.

No, I’m just over it because I’m depressed. And I’m depressed because the date of my grandmother’s death is quickly approaching: it’ll be one year on March 27th.

One year since I’ve last seen her… held her hand… looked into those wet, blue eyes. One year since I’ve last studied the lines in her face… the smile on her lips…  the curls pinned atop her head… the sweater she knitted herself twenty years prior draped over her shoulder (she was always so cold at the end).

Son of a bitch, I cannot do this. I can’t. The tears are forming and the heart is breaking again. I miss her so much. Oma, I miss you. So much. So, so much.

***

I remember March 2009. I was kind of down in the dumps. The baby I should’ve had would’ve been born had I not lost it the summer prior. A friend was having her own baby. I wasn’t. I was moving. I was empty inside, trying to focus and think about anything and everything other than babies. But they came from the woodwork, I swear. Left and right and dropping down from the sky, it seemed. Everywhere I looked there was a baby or a mama about to pop one out. Life felt so unfair.

Every March that rolls around, I still think of how old my would-be baby would’ve been. (This year, she would’ve been five.) I’m so blessed to have a happy and healthy four-year-old so it’s not so hard anymore; I don’t get too sad when March rolls around because I do know that I’m one of the lucky ones—the ones who can have a baby after a loss (or even at all).

But this March is different.

***

It’s been an interesting year since she’s passed. At first, I was really so much better than I imagined I would be. I think it was because of all the mourning I did (but tried not to do) the months leading up to her passing.

Then Mother’s Day came less than two months after her passing. My first one without her to mail a card to, to buy flowers for. It sucked, but certainly not as much as her birthday did weeks later.

Other than that, I’ve been okay. I’ll see something or hear something or feel something or smell something that reminds me of her, but, up till recently, I’ve been able to swallow the tears and, instead, smile.

Smile because of how blessed I’ve been to have more than forty years with such an amazing woman. Smile because of how blessed I am to have such wonderful memories.

But these past several months have been very different. I’ve been so down, melancholy.

 

I just really miss my Oma so much.

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