Losing a loved one at such a young age is really hard for a number of obvious reasons. It’s not a particularly unique experience, but it takes a special kind of person to understand your real emotions on the subject.
When I was very young, my grandmother passed away. Even at seven, she and I were best friends. She lived next door to us, and she kept me when I was out of school or if I got sick. She retired just to take care of my brother when he was born, and she decided to dedicate her life to that.
My mom and my grandmother had an amazing relationship, even when my mom was a kid. They never fought like most moms and daughters. Today, my mom and I are the same way. We both know my grandmother would be so proud.
Of course, we can’t communicate this fact to her in any way, and that hurts.
Having lost her at such a young age, I have moments when I wonder why I’m still so connected. I’ve written essays, articles and poems about this experience, and I hardly remember it. I got to a point where I stopped thinking about it because I didn’t think I deserved to grieve a person I didn’t have much time to know.
When Lady Gaga released her “Joanne” album, I had a chance to rethink all of that. The song Joanne is about her aunt who died before she was born. She’d dedicated a whole album to a women she’d never known, but who she looks up to and misses. I was encouraged to continue to grieve my grandmother.
The relationship between the dead and the living is a very complicated road. There’s no right way to walk it. I wish I could’ve had an adult-to-adult relationship with my grandmother, but I have to feel that the seven years I had with her were enough magic to last me my whole life.
When I hear my friends talk about their grandmothers in a nonchalant or even disagreeable way, I don’t even get angry. I become hurt. I just want to remind them of my situation: my grandmother was my best friend, and I lost her way too early. Of course, though, we all have our own perspective.
Sirius Black’s line in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban has comforted me for years: “the ones that love us never really leave us.”