The world is about lose the most positive, patient and compassionate person I’ve ever met. I’m so lucky I got the opportunity from the day I was born to experience your love and presence.
Getting to say goodbye when death is so close is a privilege (we didn’t get that with Grandma) but it’s also just for those that a person is leaving behind on this planet. Selfishly, I’m not sure if I can handle this. I want you to stay here — even if in a morpheme haze you emerge in and out of. I know its not right but I’m not ready to experience this life, this family without its glue and positive cheerleader. I’m not ready for the opportunities to learn from you to end.
I’m really going to miss your laugh– something bigger than a giggle but less than a full body, gut vibrating laugh. It’s so genuinely unique to you.
I’m going to miss your attitude — always looking at things 100% full, never half. For example, whenever we spoke (and I admit it wasn’t often enough) and I’d ask how you were doing your answer was never negative even if you were being poked and prodded by doctors. It put my annoyances with life in perspective.
I’m going to miss your strength — I honestly have never met anyone so willing to give the fight 150% every time (and there were a lot of times) — it must have been exhausting! You kept being so strong if not for yourself but for all of us. I mean, you’re still so strong hopping over the beside rails and walking to the bathroom (which I am so pissed off you think you can do that).
Now your going to be with Grandma, Pop-pop and your brother waiting for all of us when its our time. I know I’ll see you again just not soon (I hope). I have so much more to give, learn and makes sure our dysfunctional family all sticks together.