"Marry me, John, I'll be so good to you...

...you won't realize I'm gone."

Dear Interwebz, Dear Void:

If you were an actual person, this would be the most dysfunctional relationship on the planet. For one thing, we see each other way too much. 

I don't know what I'm doing on here, instead of sleeping in my (cold, empty) bed. 

Oh...

Well, when you put it that way...

It's coming up on the one year anniversary of my Granny's (death--say it!) passing, and am at a loss. I wasn't close to her before she died, and a curious feeling pangs against my chest when I hear family members say they feel that she's close by. It makes me wonder if there is a veil beyond our present reality. That her spirit, indeed, lingers, or if it's a symptom of phantom (Ha!) pain. 

People lose a leg and swear they're still wiggling their toes, why wouldn't you lose your Mom and not feel that she's close by? 

Before she died, I took to looking at the moon. Searching that rock for...for faith, I think. For some kind of comfort. Maybe a week after she died, I remember getting out of class and looking up at the moon, thinking about her. I remember thinking something along the lines of, "Will I always look at the moon and think of you? The way I never thought of you before?" I was barely to my car before a flood washed over me. 

I tried to picture her in the passenger seat, waiting to soothe me, and couldn't. I tried to will her to me, and still felt nothing. The more I tried to find her, the more alone I realized I truly was.

I would have given anything in that moment to feel connected to something closer than the moon. 

I'm sure there is a marvelously astute and poignant conclusion, but I can't think of it. I don't know how to end this (Boy, you just ain't whistlin' Dixie...). I set out to write something completely different. Something vapid and about sleep deprivation. Something about how well I was doing for a awhile, in terms of actually being tired before midnight, and getting up at a decent hour. But my Granny decided to finally visit.

My life is blessed, nothing can be said to the contrary. I feel so old, sometimes, though. Twenty-somethings don't go to class with blood on their glasses. Twenty-somethings don't sit alone in a studio while people are celebrating a wall away. Twenty-somethings don't spend their Friday nights writing about dead Grannies. You're not supposed to be this young and miss this many people.

Right?

-Emily