This morning It will have been a year since we lost my grandmother. My mom called before 7 am. Before I even called her back, I knew what had happened. It sounds wrong. It sounds like just some person I am related to had died. The words "my grandmother" don't even come close to describing how much she meant to me. She has never been just "my grandmother", but my guardian angel, my friend and my role model, my second mother. With my bad relationship with my own mother, Dorsey was who I viewed as my mother. Today is Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for every moment, conversation, cuddle, laugh and adventure I had with her. 

Spending the night at her house was always my favorite. Especially when I got to go alone without my brothers. She was the best cook. After we cuddled in her bed watching tv, She would always say prayers with me and tuck me in, and give me kisses. What I wouldn't give for one more sleepover. One more time to be tucked in the way she does best. She took my brothers and me on big vacations. She never missed any performance or event in my life. She was sick the day I got my first period, but she send Grandan over with a present for me. I was mortified then, but it's hilarious now. All seemingly small things, but they meant the world to me.

I remember after her stroke communicating was hard. She never fully recovered and it was hard seeing her like that. She didn't remember things, she couldn't hear me when I called. I hated being far away. I couldn't spend as much time as I wanted. I missed so much time I could have spent with her if I had not moved. Her and my sister were my reasons to visit. 

During my first marriage. She was the one I turned to. Her and my grandfather helped me financially and supported me through the whole thing. She never once said a word, she let my grandfather do all the talking and lecturing. She just did all the loving. Sam told me it frustrated him talking to her because she always asked him about his job and financial situation. Looking back I think she knew Sam was still lying even though no one else did. She was probably trying to get him to fess up to me. I remember sitting across from her at dinner telling her I miscarried her first great-grandchild and was getting a divorce. She again didn't say a word, she didn't look surprised, she just hugged me. Cause she knew nothing anyone said would change my situation or take my pain away.

At the end I remember sitting in her hospital room. Everyone said she was unresponsive. But she kept squeezing my hand and looking at me. She couldn't talk, but she was trying to tell me something. It was hard for me to meet her eyes and see her like that. She would stare at Peyton when she wasn't looking at me. The next time I saw her I knew it was the last. I just wanted to curl up in her bed with her and stay by her side until the last possible second. But I had a husband and a baby and a responsibilities. It was so hard walking away. Knowing I would never see her again this side of heaven. What do you say in that moment? How do you let someone know they mean everything to you. And they were perfect. And you don't know how to go on without them. And you wish you will be just like them when you grow up. Through my uncontrollable sobs and blubbering words, I hope she knew.

I will hear her favorite hymns play at work or other places, and I feel her presence. I sing Peyton to sleep in her rocking chair every night. Some of the songs I learned sitting next to her in church every Sunday. I can still remember her voice singing them. One night I was just overwhelmed by the feeling that she was watching me. I sat there and I talked to her and cried while Peyton slept in my arms. I don't know why, I don't know how to explain it. (Maybe I accidentally had two doses of my meds that morning.) I feel her presence a lot. Now if that's actually what's happening, or if it's just in my head I'll never know. Either way, It helps me feel better thinking she is here watching over me.