I was always told not to take things for granted. Possessions were one thing, but people were another. I would never value people as much as I should have. I never valued my great grandmother, and I regret it more than anything. I didn't realize what I had until it was too late. I miss her with every ounce of my being.

She was quiet, but with one remark she could either strike you down or bring you up. She could easily guess every "Wheel of Fortune" puzzle. There were nights when I tried to beat her, but I never could. She was obsessed with loons. I never noticed how beautiful they were until she would talk about them. She kept everything neatly organized in filing cabinets. If you wanted family history she would tell you which drawer and which section. She was the smartest woman I knew, but she didn't flaunt it at all. She would spend hours teaching my little brother how to play Scrabble. She would never tell you that she didn't approve, but she had the look that said it all. Most of all, she loved me no matter what.

I was going through a really rough time during her last years. I was striking out at everyone. I would sneak out when no one was looking, and I would disappear for hours. I would ignore the phone calls and texts until I was calm enough to answer. I would stress my family out when I would disappear, and she would never say anything, but I knew how she felt. I knew I was hurting her, but I was angry, and I didn't care who I was hurting. I wouldn't look at her when I would go into the house, and I would barely even see her. I avoided her, because I didn't want to hear what she or anyone else had to say.

I eventually was getting better. I would eat breakfast and dinner with her. I would play Wheel of Fortune again. I stayed at her house more often. Things were harder, because she was getting older. There were always people there to help her. When there weren't we would pitch in and stay with her. It was a fun place to stay regardless of her condition. She would try to teach me how to play Scrabble like my brother, but I never had the patience for it.

My great grandmother loved Memorial Day. There was a parade that went right by her house, so she could always watch it go by. The whole family would get together for a huge barbecue, and we would all laugh together until it was dark. Then everyone would hug her and leave. It was one of my favorite days of the year, and we all knew it was her day. It was the night before memorial day. She had woken up sick. She got worse throughout the night, and by morning she was gone.

I remember not being able to breathe. I remember going to tell my brother and falling to the ground with him in tears. I remember my Dad driving us to the cemetery to see my great grandfather. I remember telling the headstone that Grandma would be with him soon. I remember seeing my family members leave the house in various stages of grief. Most of all, I remember the shame. I had been horrible, and she had not gotten to see me get better. I had let her down before she left us. I couldn't breathe the whole day. I barely remember anything. The parade came the next day, but it wasn't right.

We picked out different dresses for the funeral and the wake. My Mother wouldn't let me wear black, because she kept saying I was too young for it. I wore my great grandmother's favorite two dresses. I wore my green Easter dress that she loved, and I wore my confirmation outfit that she was so proud of. I was numb then too. I refused to believe that she was gone. She couldn't be. It wasn't right. She held everything together. She couldn't just leave.

She did though, and it broke my heart. It still hurts when I look at a picture of her. It still hurts when I walk in that door to see an empty chair. I wish more than anything though that she could see me now. I wish she could see me trying my hardest to make her proud. I know that she may be watching, but it isn't the same. I miss her with all of my heart, and nothing will ever be the same without her.