I have to be honest here. I’ve been staring at my keyboard for a few hours now. I’m not sure which words I want to say first.

If you come here from Facebook, then you’re probably friends with at least one other member of my family. If that’s the case, then you’re probably aware of the news. If you’re not: my grandma passed away on Saturday.

This was something we knew was coming. She had been steadily declining for a while, and she was suffering. Truthfully, I am relieved because I know she is now at peace and is no longer suffering and miserable. Obviously, I am sad about it, but I know it was her time and she was ready to go.

Like most things that happen in my life, I haven’t said a lot about the whole situation. And the reason behind that is simply there’s nothing else for me to say. She’s gone. No words I say are going to bring her back.

I have no regrets with my grandma. She was around and involved for over twenty years of my life. A week before she passed, I got to go to the hospital to see her and visit. (Due to COVID restrictions, the hospital only allowed one visitor per day). It was nice to just spend some time with me and her. I’m not entirely sure how much she recognized me because of the state she was in, but I got to hold her hand for a bit, and at one point, she reached over and touched my face.

I know that this grief is probably something I will never completely get rid of. One of my favorite analogies about dealing with grief is the Ball in the Box. The way it works is like this: There is a ball in a box with a pain button. At first, the ball is really large and it hits the pain button all the time. But over time, the ball gets smaller. But it still hits the pain button. It is just more sporadic and less frequent. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt as much though. It just doesn’t come in as often as it used to.

Grief doesn’t go away. I have scars on my heart that can easily be reopened. I am always going to miss my grandma. She was an important part of my life for many years. But that being said, I don’t have any regrets with her. I got to say goodbye. I got to spend plenty of time with her and be with her just a couple days before she passed. I know she was proud of me and that she loved me. I also know how fortunate I am to have a family that loves me like that. However, it doesn’t always stop the pain. When that ball hits the pain button, I know that it will hurt just as much regardless of how much time has passed.

This post was not the original plan for today. Nevertheless, this is more important than probably anything else I have to say right now. I don’t know what you’re going through. But I do know there’s probably some grief in your heart. It probably won’t ever go away, but hopefully the ball gets smaller. Hopefully, even if the grief doesn’t go away, you’re capable of going on with your life. And as awful as this sounds, I hope that when the ball does hit the pain button, that you let yourself feel it. It does no good to bottle up and repress your emotions. And the pain that you feel shows that you truly care about that person. So I know life is hard, and grief is painful. But I also know it’s because you care that is so painful. Never let the pain of grief harden your heart.