A year ago today Grandma Joanne was in the hospital. In about 15 hours, it will have been a year since she died with no one but a nurse holding her hand. (I still don't know who that nurse was, but someday, I would like to tell him how wonderful I think he is for staying with her.) I thought that by now, I would have dealt with more of this. There are times when I feel like I have, but there are also times where it hits me out of no where, like a heavy weight on my chest. Thanksgiving was hard. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was blocks away from her. No one answered the phone when I called so I gave up. I should have gone over there. I should have been there. I should have asked my mom how else to get a hold of her live-in partner/caretaker. But I didn't. I tried once and I gave up. At least she wouldn't have been so alone if I had done something more.

The man held responsible just got out of jail and is playing games on facebook. Why this is sticking in my head, I couldn't tell you. What else he is doing, I don't know. But knowing he is out is enough to keep me thinking twice about visiting the rest of my family over there. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him because I am more angry than I even realize and am afraid of what I would say or do. I don't want to see him because I am afraid of him and what he would say or do. I don't want to go because I am tired of hearing other people's opinions of him, of my grandmother, of the whole situation. I don't put all the blame on him entirely, I feel he is responsible for most of it, but not all. And I try to give respect and the benefit of the doubt. I have to believe that it is possible for good to exist in bad situations. But this by no means makes it ok for people to tell me what a wonderful person he is and how he could not have played any part in her death. It's still too raw.

I miss her.