Unbelievably, today marks five years since my Grandma Gloria passed away. My paternal grandmother, she honestly was one of the most amazing and wonderful people I'll ever know. She was such an enormous part of my life for so long, it's hard to believe she's already been gone for five years.
Widowed at age 57, she continued to work full-time in New York City until her early 70s. It was my grandmother who took my sister and I to the Statue of Liberty, and she also took me to a number of museums in New York. We used to call her our "playing grandma," because she was more than happy to spend hours sitting on the floor with us, playing board games and keeping us occupied.
More than all of that, however, my grandmother honestly was my biggest fan. I spoke to her several times a week, and she always loved to hear about everything in my life. It didn't matter how mundane the achievement—just knowing I achieved something made her so proud. She used to joke that "her chest grew bigger because she was so proud of me." Her support and encouragement was always so vital in my life; when I was at low points growing up, it seemed like she was my only ally, but that was enough.
I have enough memories of my grandmother to make her endure for the rest of my life, but her absence still leaves me a little hollow. Often I think about how excited or proud she'd be when certain things happen in my life, and when things don't go so well, I know she would have told me how much she loved me and how proud of me she always was.
Whenever I would leave to head home after visiting her, she always used to watch out the window as I pulled out of the parking lot. She'd watch and wave until I drove out of sight. So as sad as the memory of losing her still makes me, all I need to do is think about her watching me and waving to me, and it's just a little easier to bear.
I miss you and love you always...
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