The Paths We Take
When my grandmother died back in February, my first thought was relief. She had been ill for some time and her mind had started slipping before that. Once a lively, vivacious person, she could barely recognize her great grandchildren and spent most of her days in contented silence. I saw her two weeks before she died to say goodbye; she actually looked really good and I thought that I might see her again. But things turned quickly. Thankfully, I got the chance to tell her I love her on the phone one last time. The next day, she passed. My second thought was an incredible sadness. It has not really dissipated and is felt more acutely this time of year. And really all year as I've stared my existence in the mirror and at last, dared myself to do better for me. I miss her more than I thought I would, my grief for her inseparable with my transition. My grandmother was the person for whom the term “social butterfly” exists. She was a faithful church attendee, though I think that was m...