Nine years ago, my grandmother, who I always called Nan, passed away of lung cancer. Her fight was long. It was not torturous. I saw in her August when she was diagnosed, and she gone by September.
I looked up to her as I looked up to no one else. She was my foundation, my strength, my ambition. Her death set in motion a series of events that I can't explain and won't try. I may have briefly lost my mind and my will to succeed. I may have felt that my entire world was pulled out from under me. I may have felt lost and drowning. And I may have fought like hell to learn how to survive without her love and guidance in my daily life.
It may taken me more than a few weeks to realize that she had already given me the strength and encouragement I needed to find my path. She had already provided me with unconditional love and support. She had already paved the way for me to stand on my own two feet. And she would always be with me, even if not in the flesh.
I miss my Nan. I wish she could meet my children. I wish my children could meet her. She was so strong. A pillar to our family. And upon her death, we spread a part. She was the string that tied us all together.
Today, I honor her and love her and think of her. Today, I give thanks that I was so lucky to have her in my life and I will forever be inspired by her courage and her determination. Love you, Nan.