A lot changes in 13 years.
13 years ago, I was 9, turning 10. Now, I'll be turning 23 in a few weeks. Goodbye, childhood.
(Doesn't anyone else think the 2000's were much simpler? Less technology, and of course, less COVID?)
It's been 13 years since my maternal grandmother, Fern Larabie, passed away of liver disease at the young age of 62 -- despite never drinking in her life. It was a long and difficult battle, and her mind was completely gone in the end. As a child, it was very hard to watch her deteriorate. And of course, watching my own mother grieve and lose her only parent was also hard.
I've donated to the Liver Foundation in her memory today. Wherever she is -- if there is an afterlife -- I want her to know I'm thinking of her. I hope she would be proud of her (not so little anymore) granddaughter and how far I've come.
Hopefully, she's still guiding me through life and all my struggles. I miss her very much and wish we would've had more time together.
Here's a picture of us at my 3rd grade communion:
I will never forget her, and I cherish the memories we made.
I remember her funeral like it was yesterday, too -- how it was raining terribly. That was a very sad day.
In my third novel, I dedicated the story to her. I don't want the world to forget her. I will never forget her as long as I live.
I can still remember her laugh. I'll never forget that sound.
Rest in Peace, Nanny. You will always be in my heart. And on your birthday -- April 10th -- of this year, I planted three trees in your honor. They will breathe life into the world on your behalf.
Love always,
Dana
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