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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.”