It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds. – What Sarah Said, Death Cab
There are 26 years of memories stored in my head. 26 years. Yet the ones that are at the front of my mind, are the ones that I hate. Memories from events that occurred during our last few days together in that hospital. Memories like the way that her body lifted with each machine-assisted breath. The color of her skin. The temperature of it. The room number and how many steps it took me to get there.
The one-sided conversations.
The dwindling hope.
I have lived 95 days without my Grandma. And so far, it hasn’t gotten any easier.