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Two Weeks Gone

My eyes flew open at 4am and my heart sunk. Two weeks. Two weeks ago my best friend left this earth. Two weeks since I spoke to her, held her hand, hugged her. This is the longest I have ever gone without speaking to GaGa. I keep calling her number, but no one picks up.

It seems like life is now divided – before and after GaGa passed. Of course, my life prior to this was divided by my time in treatment, Marjorie’s early birth and cancer. Maybe this is what life is – the crosshairs of life’s events and finding our new normal.

This week I have barely limped along in finding this new normal. It hasn’t really been a limp, so much as it has been a crawl – and sometimes not even that. Getting out of bed takes all of my energy, but sleep is fleeting. Food has no taste and the only reason I leave the house is to pick up the kids and take them to activities.

I called my sister Wednesday morning in a desperate plea to know the exact reason and cause of GaGa’s death. Why did she leave me? Of course, Jessica did not have the answer – because we all know why. She was 94. And while my head logically knows that my heart is a different story.

My heart has never ached like this. My body has never felt so numb. I am floating along, doing chores and to dos like a robot.

Yesterday, I strapped on my big girl panties and got out of the house – because Manning had soccer. My mom kept telling me to get up and out of bed this week, but I just couldn’t. She kept telling me sunshine would be good, but I stayed in bed with the blinds closed.

The sun rose Saturday and I knew I had to get up and take Manning to soccer. Before soccer I decided to take the kids and dogs to the park. I laughed as Manning climbed a tree and Marjorie flew down the slide.

We loaded up and went to soccer. Conversation with other moms was hard for me, but I found comfort in being silent in the sun watching my kids run and jump.

Today, I did the ultimate grief task: I showered, brushed my hair and put on a real bra. I told Jordan we should go to dinner with friends and we did. It was nice to be out and drink a glass of chardonnay for GaGa.

I am now back home in my jammies, watching the Grammys. They were GaGa’s favorite awards show, besides the Country Music Awards. She would call me every year to remind me that they were on and tell me for the 100th time that she ‘didn’t care for’ Taylor Swift. I would then ask her how was it possible to not like Taylor Swift and she would laugh and change subjects.

I miss her so much. I just don’t know how life goes on, but somehow it does and it is. I literally think of her every second and every millisecond in between. I wake up at all hours of the night thinking of her and wondering if this is all real.

Grief is exhausting. Simple chores take all of my energy. I want to call her and make her laugh with kids latest antics. I want to tell her that Manning scored a goal or that Marjorie refuses to go to bed without her tap shoes. I want to hear her voice. I want her to tell me she loves me.

I talk to her all day, hoping she hears me. I feel like she does, at least that makes me feel better, like I am really talking with her. My life will never be the same. Not because she is gone, but because she was with me my whole life. I am me because of GaGa and I will find my new normal in time. For now, it is two weeks gone and not a second forgotten.

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1 Comment

  • Reply
    Adrienne
    January 28, 2018 at 9:14 pm

    Sweet McCall. I know this grief all too well. Few of us have the privilege of knowing our grandparents into their 90’s. It’s earth shattering when they leave us. Mainly because for 35 years we never knew life without them. And although they lived a good life, 92 or 94 years is still not enough for us… the ones left behind. I will keep you in my prayers. But know, 3 years after Peepaw’s death there are still moments that bring me to my knees and I find myself in tears. All my love.

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