i miss her.

Sometimes I miss her so much I can taste it. Like every part of me misses her so much that my senses overload and I get dizzy and can taste the ache of wanting her here. I miss her all of the time, but every once in awhile I miss her that much. It's usually in the quiet times, like now, when I'm slumber partying with my tiny girl and I just want her to know how funny and smart and fun and lovely her granddaughter is. Because I know they would've adored each other.  

Once I went and read her charts from MD Anderson, and over and over it was written that the patient was not afraid of dying. That her biggest regret was knowing her grandchild would never know her. So she had to keep trying. Experiment after trial after experiment until there was nothing left to try. I threw the charts away. 

Here's a neat thing about being a grandparent. In a way you get a second chance. She wasn't the perfect parent, but I know she loved me. And I know, even without saying, that she deserved her do over. She would have made an amazing grandmother. 

Right now I can taste it. I miss her so very much. And why do I share something like this? Because it keeps her real. Because I know that there are friends out there who absolutely get it and they need to hear a 'me too'. That most days you are ok, but some days you are not- even after two years. And that's ok too.