"Nana" 12.12.14

To whom it may concern, she was more than just a mother.
She was my nana.
You will never fathom the shopping trips,
the songs,
the time we went to New York and bought a $42 pizza from room service,
the hugs,
the clothes hemmed and mended,
the homecoming dress altered 5 minutes before you leave for the dance,
the money lent,
the phone bill paid,
the "what do you want for Christmas" question every year,
how when I was little I would sneak out of my room and sit behind her chair to read like she did,
the puzzles done,
the number of times I made her read me a story about a teddybear that liked pastries,
the times we'd play chess at the dining room table over and over,
the grocery store trips,
the gifted kid stories,
the way she cooked every year for the family and let me pick all of the appetizers,
that I'm the only granddaughter she ever had,
the time we learned the secret way to get into the Met,
the way she paid me and my cousins for reading,
the fact that she drove me to my first job interview ever,
how she kept books in her pocketbooks in case she needed them,
how she brought Triscuits and Wheat Thins to school and shared,
how she'd bring me a Diet Coke at lunch in elementary school,
how I grew up with her too,
what it was like to sit in her sewing room and look at the piles of fabric fondly,
and you don't understand the way my nana loved me. 

I don't know that she ever bragged on me, but she always congratulated me. When I made it into the spelling bee, she was impressed because gifted kids in her class had a bad history of not being good at spelling. My nana taught me so much. She was like... Not a mom. But nana and granddad were like other parents to me. I grew up around them, in the very house that my family and I now have to move out of. God, I hate moving. The sight of boxes everywhere literally just brings me into a depression that I just can't explain to anyone. I just feel alone. The house we live in now is the longest place I've ever resided. We have lived there a grand total of about 5 years, give or take a couple of months. Even when we didn't live there, we were over there almost everyday. 

Everyone is talking about how much they miss her, or how they don't. Their names are on post-it notes all around what I have been calling my house for almost three years now. Nana was the reason that we moved back to West Virginia. She needed help caring for my granddaddy and so we picked up everything and came back. How were we supposed to know it would end like this? I resented my nana for a long time. To an extent, I haven't stopped. Because of her, I had to leave behind some awesome people and teachers and places and I still miss them. There's a difference between missing someone when they're gone, and missing someone who is just a few states away. I can't tell you which is worse. Knowing you'll see them again but not know when, or know that you will never see them again (unless you have a perception of a Heaven and eternity that says you will.) 

I mean, I guess that I have a perception. My beliefs are just being tried right now. Christians will gasp at that, and tell me that I need to have faith in God and hope and pray and believe, and I'm sorry if you feel that way. I have a broken heart right now. In the past 6 years, I have moved three (soon to be four) times, my dad was told he needed a heart transplant, my mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, my Grammy had a stroke, I have attended five different schools, and two of my beloved grandparents have passed away. If "everything happens for a reason" then I'm ready to know that reason. I'm tired of the pious platitudes. I'm tired of the empty (not all of them are, but some of them) "I'm praying for you" and "if there's anything we can do, let us know." 

I've heard it all, folks. Let me just tell you that, I have heard it all. Empty, pious platitudes that people say to make you feel better for a moment and then just make you feel numb. People won't stop asking me how I'm doing. To tell you the truth, I'm a nervous wreck. I'm anxious. I'm afraid. I feel alone. I've been sleeping in my mom's room so that at least if I cry, I have someone to hold me while I do. I can't stand to be at school, like I am right this moment, but according to the law, this place is what I need.
No, I probably need to sleep for a good week.
I probably need to cry.
I need my best friend Jordan to hug me and let me cry on his shoulder.
I need my boyfriend Patrick to hold me and let me cry like a baby and tell me it's all gonna be okay. Even if it isn't, he would certainly try to make it okay again. I need him to kiss me and hug me and make me laugh over stupid things.
I really love those two. Like, I cannot explain how much.
Patrick is an amazing guy. Jordan is awesome. They're the best. I miss them so very much. 

Overall, I'm not sure how I am. Not okay, not at all, and not by far. Right now I'm just trying to make it through every day, one day at a time. I hate school more than usual. At the beginning of this week I couldn't stop crying, and now I have let the numbness just set in so that I can work and try to focus. 

My teachers, bless them, understand why one of the smartest kids they have in class has been sitting there doing nothing.
My anatomy teacher has given me additional time on assignments, and has helped me with everything I need to bring my grade back to it's full capacity.
My French teacher has exempted me from everything participation from earlier this week, and is doing everything to the best of her ability to help me make up tests next week.
My public speaking teacher has prayed for my family, asked about me, and is definitely one of my favorite teachers ever.
My basketball coach, and my team, have made me cry from just being nice to me this week.
Substitutes at my school that my nana would request for her gifted class have hugged me and cried with me. We all just miss her.
The band program at my high school and my brother's middle school sent us food earlier this week. Thank goodness for my band family. I've gotten to where walking into that room once again feels like a healing hug. They are the most understanding bunch of people I've ever met. The hugs I've received, and the smiles they give, have definitely helped ease the ache in my heart. 

I just miss my nana. I miss what I thought my life was. It may sound pathetic, but I'm just... I'm just very tired. My psyche doesn't know how to handle all of this. Nana was here a week ago. I sat with her, and held her hand. She told me things that made me fall apart with joy. Now, she's gone. I know that death is unavoidable, but she was literally fine a month ago. Our prayers had been answered weeks ago, when she was re-diagnosed with a rare, treatable form of pancreatic cancer. Then, I watched as she gave up. She didn't want chemo. I resent her for that. I always thought she was a strong woman, but giving up the fight after you're given another chance at life, is just.... Pathetic, almost. I resent her for not fighting it. I resent other people for encouraging her not to, and saying that Granddad was up in Heaven asking God to bring her to him. I feel like I believed a lie about her strength, because in the end, she stopped fighting. She turned down a God-given chance. I resent God, for not healing her. If he can heal, why didn't he heal her?

If you look down your nose at me for my lack of faith, well okay then. Go ahead and say shame on her. Go ahead and tell me how you'll pray for me. Go ahead and tell me it'll all be alright someday. I will politely tell you to go say it to someone who wants to hear it. What do I want to hear? It isn't about what I want to hear. It's about what I don't want to hear; about what is tearing me up from the inside out. 

This Christmas season is making me absolutely hate Christmas. The amount of loneliness I feel is unreal. Where I'm mad at everyone else, I'm also mad at myself for feeling like this. I don't enjoy feeling like I'm drowning, and that's how I feel. So this year, for Christmas, I want a not-broken heart. If the Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day, I guess I have hope. For Christmas, I want to feel better, I want to see my boyfriend, I want to see my friends out of state, and I want a really big hug. 

I haven't written in a while. Actually, since granddaddy died, I haven't wanted to write as much. I've faithfully kept a journal since the fourth grade, and now my current one sits in it's hiding place, because I can't bring myself to write in it. Silly, right? But sadness makes my writing rich, I guess. It makes it real. It relieves it of any emptiness and coats it with a thick layer of reality. That's just the truth. John Green and I have that in common, I guess. That reality is the best policy. Yes, I'm a firm believer of princesses (or princes) in towers; in dreams come true; in happily ever afters and stories that end in happy songs and a faded black screen. Buuuut, let's be real here, though they exist, everyone is gonna have a different story. Your happily ever after might just happen before the end of your story, and even if the story doesn't have a happy ending, at least you have the memories and joy from the said happily ever after. 

I'm a dreamer with a broken heart.
I feel oh so alone.
I always really need a hug.
I miss a lot of people.
Besides that, I don't know how I am. So please, stop asking. 

If you're reading this, I love you and I hope you're having a better bout with life than I am right now.
Have an awesome day, and I'll be back here again soon.
-Tori