My family isn’t rich or famous or reality-show worthy. We aren’t really anything, but we are THERE. I was never the kid that hoped that someone would show up to the school play; I was the kid who had to request extra tickets. I played sports terribly but had the biggest cheering section. If I cried, I could always find someone to hug and a lap to curl up in. I had to have an upper GI when I was 17 and when it was over the whole family was in the waiting room and there weren’t even needles involved. We used to joke that if I was ever in a play and got so sick I couldn’t come- Nana knew all my lines and could replace me. That is just the way we have been since I can remember. We don’t even do the phone thing well. The phone was just a necessary means to plan the next time we would get to see each other. Anytime the phone rings at Nana and Honey’s someone will always say, “who could that be? We’re all here!” And we all laugh every time. There is a kind of unshakeable confidence that kind of security gives people and I’ll never have the words to describe it.
My great grandmother, Nannie passed away last night. She was 97. I am sad, but confident in the fact that she has been ready to see Jesus and Granddad for a while now. Most people don’t get to have a great grandmother until they are 23 and I feel very blessed. Like most tears shed at funerals, mine are selfish. Because I know where I should be and I can’t be there. I should be making sandwiches and talking to relatives I haven’t seen in a long time. I should be at the funeral home standing next to Jake and my mom and dad. I should be making jokes about nobody doing a body like Corley’s. But I’m not. And more than anything, I should be able to give Honey a hug, and I can’t and it’s breaking my heart. We knew before we left that this was more than a possibility but that won’t make going to sleep tonight any easier. So tonight, I hate London. London is stupid and far away and cold and far away and dark and far away. I don’t really have a good way to end this other than to tell my family thank you for the never-ending love and support and constant presence that makes not being there so hard. It is worth every single tear.