The Post I Didn't Think I'd Have to Write

I've been going back and forth on how I would approach this on my blog, or if I would at all. Despite having a (mildly) successful blog and a really big mouth, I consider myself somewhat of a private person. I don't like talking about things that are sad, or things that are traumatic. I'm not one of those people that posts tributes on all the social networks when something bad happens. I usually lay low. But everyone on here has been so wonderful and supportive and kind the last few months, I knew I had to say something on here. My grandpa passed away on Wednesday.

Typing it feels very weird and foreign and surreal. I'm sad, obviously. Incredibly sad. But I don't feel like "sad" really encapsulates how I feel.

I'm not a stranger to grief. Three years ago, my grandmother died from endometrial cancer. Her battle was quick - she was fine at my college graduation in May and in August, she died. When she died, I was absolutely devastated - I had never considered the fact that I could live in a world where she wasn't always around, where would never meet my husband or my children. It's naive when I think about it now, because even if she was still alive, she wouldn't have the role in my kids lives that she had in mine. But it was the first time I had ever dealt with a real tragedy in my life, so I was shocked, and heartbroken. In a way, I still am.

It's different now. Not because I was closer to my grandmother than I was to my grandpa. It's different, sure, but we were still close. I don't really know how to describe it.

I'm definitely sad. I'm sad that he won't be at my wedding. I'm sad he won't get to meet my kids. I'm sad we won't have Christmas the way we used to. I'm sad for my mom, who's lost both of her parents just three years apart. I'm sad for my cousins, who are 12 and 15, because I know that they're struggling even more than me.

I feel guilty. I feel like I've been living two separate lives - one where I'm dealing with the sickness (and subsequent death) of a family member, and one where I'm finally living with Garrett and everything is amazing. It's a weird dichotomy.

I'm angry. And bitter. I'm angry that cancer is still a thing that exists. I'm angry that two of the kindest, most amazing people I've ever met had to deal with such an ugly, horrible disease. I'm angry that the burden of cancer was placed onto my family, not once, but twice.

I'm anxious. I don't know what's going to happen to my family. I don't know what the future will hold or how things will play out. The road that we've traveled together so far has been extremely difficult, and I have a feeling that things aren't going to get easier any time soon.

I know all of these things are natural and normal and all part of the grief process. I'm dealing. We all are. But damn, it is rough around here. Thanks to all of you for being so amazing and wonderful and supportive. I love you all, and I'm incredibly thankful for you.