I miss that about her. I love my husband and I love my Mom, but they are fixers. If I call them to complain, they want to fix the problems. Sometimes I just want to complain. I miss being able to pick up the phone, call my Grandma and just complain. Her commentary was the best ever. The older she got, the more she cussed. Mind you, this is the same women who made us say H-E-double hockey sticks and only allowed us to say we had to go 'pottey' or 'use the restroom'. Sometimes I would be talking about someone and she would say things like 'oh, that bitch' and I would laugh and laugh. Then she would start laughing and soon, I wouldn't even know what I was mad about anymore.
When I was really sad, I would drive down to Newton and lay in bed with her. She would play with my hair or scratch my back and it was in those moments that I knew everything was going to be okay. She would always tell me that everything in life happens for a reason. We might not know the reason, but there is one.
I would do anything to be able to pick up the phone and call her. I would tell her how it isn't fair. And how much it sucks, and how I hate all my pregnant friends (not really, but I would say it!), and how I just want to throw my phone across the room when I see another new born picture (I may or may not have done that a time or two). I would tell her how I wrote a blog about not wanting to adopt, but I want a baby so damn bad, maybe we will adopt. I will tell her how it pisses me off when Nathan tells me 'we'll try again next month' and she would agree how stupid that is. I would tell her how proud I am of him and how I wish I could act more like him. She would remind me that I'm drama to the core, and I will never be calm, cool and collected, and that's why she loves me. I would tell her how I want to punch my Mom in the face when she tells me 'it was just so easy for me to have babies, I'm sorry it's hard for you.' Not helping MOM! She would call my Mom and tell her how stupid it was. I would tell her how stupid I think it is that insurance doesn't cover infertility. She would offer to pay, and I would say no, and then we would fight about that for 10 minutes. I would tell her how annoyed I get when people ask me how I'm doing. She would smartly reply 'how the h-e-double hockey sticks do you think I'm doing you twit??. She would say that because she gets me. She knows what its like to plaster a smile on your face when all you want to do is crumble. And that is why I would cry. I would cry and cry and cry and she would let me. But then, then she would tell me to put my big girl panties on and deal with it. And that's what I keep on doing, because it's what my Nannie would want me to do.
I never knew that missing someone could hurt so badly. I think because I never knew what it was like to miss a piece of your heart. Every month I prepare myself to love a child that never comes. Every month I lose another little piece of my heart. I like to believe that my Nannie is collecting all the little pieces of my heart and she is taping them all back together. When it's time, I'll have a baby, and all those little pieces will come back to me, sent straight from my Nannie. (Probably on valentines day with a note 'roses are red, violets are blue, you'll never know how much I love you'.) Because truly, I don't think we ever did know just how much she loved us.