Balance

Nothing serves as a better reminder of how quickly time flies by than the anniversary of a significant event. A year ago last Monday, my grandma (Grams – one of her many aliases) died. How was it been a year?

For the first half of 2014 I was miserable, personally and professionally- and my outward mood and behavior showed it. I know I wasn’t the best granddaughter I could’ve been for what I didn’t know would be the last five months I’d have Grams around. Case in point:

Grams: “Jessie, I’m so happy you’re back home!”

Me: “Well, I’m not going to be here forever.” (accompanied by a scowl worthy of an ungreatful teenager).

A low point… to say the least. 

I’m pretty sure the last time I saw Grams well was in my parents’ kitchen. I was on my way out of the house and she was sitting in her usual spot at the kitchen table. She was so excited because she’d found a yellow shirt she forgot she had and was delighted to realize she loved the color and was planning to wear it more often.

I keep wishing I had just one more day, one more moment to tell her how much she meant to me. It’s so odd to not have her here. She was present for everything, whether it was a big milestone like a graduation, or something small like a family BBQ. 

I can now usually think about her without getting upset, but sometimes her absence hits me unexpectedly. And pretty damn hard. I miss the notes she’d leave on the kitchen counter after every visit – whether it was overnight or just a pit stop in between errands.  I miss her showing off her latest nail design or sparkly jewelry purchase. I want to tell her that I’m finally happy. I want to show her the pictures of the kids from my latest volunteer trip. And most of all, I want to tell her I’m sorry for my miserable behavior last year and thank her for loving me in spite of it.

Grams and I were different people. She feared flying; I thoroughly enjoy being on airplanes. She was a homebody; I love exploring new places. We found happiness in different things. She appreciated that and didn’t question my choices. We did, however, share some similar qualities. We're both criers (in both happy and sad moments). We loved watching figure skating and would call one another when a competition was on television. She taught me how important family is and to appreciate the seemingly insignificant moments - like rocking away the afternoon on the porch with people you care about. 

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There are a lot of goals I want to accomplish this year, but I think one of the most important is finding a balance between travel and being involved in the lives of my loved ones. I don't want to look back again and wish I was a better granddaughter, sister, daughter, friend, or significant other. Resuming a "normal," stationary lifestyle would make it easier on my friends and family, but I know I wouldn't be happy.

If I was lucky enough to still have Grams here, I know she would cry happy tears each time I returned home for a visit, and sad tears each time I left. Although she'd have  preferred me living in my hometown forever I also know she'd whole-heartedly support my adventurous endeavors. In her honor, I'll continue traveling, and with the most important accessory: her imparted wisdom about the value of the people you love.