I hate blogging on here, because it's always like one step forward, one step back, but I don't like having these feelings to myself and typing them out/sending them to the internet makes me feel like I'm getting rid of them.

I thought about my grandma last night. I don't really have a reason other than that I miss her. Thinking about her made me think of Rocko, my beloved stuffed penguin she got me one year for Christmas. Memories of sleeping with him every night, memories of sitting on my bed talking to her as she held him and I told her that I always cuddle him whenever I'm sad or upset and she told him that he better make sure he's always there for me when she can't be, memories of choosing Rocko over Blayn when asked who I'd rather share a bed with, and then thinking back on mom and how I wish he could have been there for me.

Which is so undeniably selfish, considering I had my family there, and Megan stood by me the whole time, but it's like you never really realize how lonely you are until you experience a loss, a loss that eveyone understands, but a loss that can't even be shared with someone who knew just how important she was/is to you, because of reasons.

I remembered crying one day we were together, because I couldn't stand the thought of losing her. I remembered how all she wanted for me was to be happy and how she never shared just how much pain she was in. She never wanted the extent of how serious everything was to be known and I remembered how scared that made me, because I didn't know, but I could see. I could see the difference from when I was a freshman in high school to when I was a freshman in college - I wanted to ignore it, to put on a brave face, to never talk about it, because, of course, everything was fine.

And the only person I felt comfortable enough to show that everything wasn't okay and how absolutely scared I was for something that was inevitable was him. And how when it happened, I didn't know whether to tell him or not and I ultimately decided not to, because why should he deserve to know after everything we've been through. Why should I have to sit through some half-assed, or even worse, a sincere apology from someone who left me so utterly changed and different?

But in that moment of saying goodbye and watching her be put in her eternal resting place, I couldn't help but want him to be there with me, to hold my hand or hug me, but not say anything, because saying something would taint the moment and leave a sour taste in my mouth.

But instead, it was me and my family spread out and separated, some complaining about how hot it was, some being stronger than others, and some yelling about things not even related to the moment.

It was all really surreal, but I know I couldn't stop crying, even when hugging my grandpa before leaving.

And maybe it's because I didn't look at anybody, but I felt like I was the only one visibly crying and that everyone was so much more stronger than I was, holding their tears and sadness inside, rather than letting it bubble out. That's not to say they didn't cry before or after in the privacy of their cars, but it felt horrible to be so sad when my form of loss doesn't even compare to grandpa's or my mom and aunt/uncles.

To me, it was like losing my biggest fan and supporter, my longest and most dearest friend who taught me more about life in the limited amount of time I had with her. Whenever I was sad, I could always e-mail her and she would respond with exactly what I needed to hear and even when I was distancing myself from the family, she never failed to tell me how much she loved me. Whenever I was stressed, she would give me the dose of confidence I needed to get the job done and that she knew I worked hard and that she couldn't wait to be there for my graduation, because she knew I would make it there and that I would succeed in anything I wanted to do.

Losing her felt like losing him all over again even though the two should and couldn't ever be completely comparable. It just felt like saying goodbye to someone so important to you and knowing you had to, but you didn't want to, because you needed them still, but you also had no other choice - there never was another option other than to let them go. You needed the support and the comfort and safety that came with it, but you knew you couldn't hold onto it anymore, because it just doesn't exist like it used to. You can take comfort in the memories and you can cherish the lessons learned, but it's not the same.

This kind of loss has a real sense of permanence. I just wanted him to be there for me to prove that just because you say goodbye, it doesn't mean that it's forever. It would have hurt to have him there and I really wouldn't change how it went, but it's one of those "I wish things could have been different" moments without really wishing that.

I almost wish my heart was really small, because of how tall I am, so I wouldn't be so hurt or sad, especially when I'm hit with waves of emotions all at once. While feeling every spectrum of emotion with my entire being may be one of my positive qualities, it's also my Achilles heel.