A letter to my grandmother who passed,

It's 5 a.m. and I'm wide awake. I jump in the shower to beat the rest of my family. I'm shaking, I'm so nervous, so I have to steady my hand as I try to squirt body wash onto my sponge. My mind is racing, going 90 miles an hour and my stomach is in knots. Yes, this is how I felt the morning of my wedding.

After my shower, I slipped into a pair of yoga pants and my fiancé's button up shirt. I've thought about almost everything this morning, everything except for you. My mind is an explosion of thoughts as I apply my makeup and false lashes. I'm trying to keep my hands steady because I want them to look perfect. I want to be perfect today.

After we climb into the car and race to the chapel, I'm led to a dressing area where I can finally put on my dress. I'm all thumbs as I try to steady my hands—those darn shaking hands—but my mother is there to help me ensure I get my gown on without any issues. She helps me slide it over my head and helps zip it up in the back. I start to stammer around because I know I'm forgetting something, and that is when I first thought of you.

I had decided not to buy any fancy jewelry for my wedding day because I knew exactly what I wanted to wear. My grandmother had given me some jewelry when I was younger. I never wore that jewelry, until my wedding day.

As my aunt helps me put on the necklace, I slip on the ring. Thoughts of you whirling around in my mind. I hadn't thought about you up until that point that day because it was just too painful. My grandmother would not be at my wedding. Just typing that phrase causes my heart to shatter into a million pieces all over again.

Growing up, my grandmother was always there for me. She helped raise me. She cooked for me. She shopped for me. She treated me like I was her own daughter. I never had to wait for anything when I was with her because she always made sure I had everything I needed. That's why the realization that she was not to be present at my wedding was completely unfathomable.

How can I do this without you? How can I put on this beautiful, white gown with my hair done up in spiral curls, wear your jewelry and say my vows without you out there in the crowd? How can I do all of this without getting a bear hug and seeing your sweet smile or hear you say, "Baby, you look like a doll."

I've come to the point in this article when the tears begin to fall, but I don't stop them. Sometimes when I hear a sad song on the radio, I'll turn it off as soon as it starts because I'll not let myself feel that sadness. But on a day like today, I welcome that old sadness with open arms. It's like welcoming home an old friend. That sadness that has become like a new limb. It's been with me every since you left.

If you have ever lost someone, then you know how I feel. My first wedding anniversary is coming up, and while I am remembering all of the sweet, amazing things from my wedding day, I'm still so saddened by the absence of my grandmother, who was more special to me than all the rubies and diamonds in the world.

My grandmother helped me grow into the woman that I am today. Her absence on that important day shook my soul and shot a cold chill deep down into my bones. Some people may say that the sadness will go away. It doesn't. After all this time, it's just like having a new limb—it becomes a part of who you are.

My wedding would have been a lot different had my grandmother been there. She would have been in that front row with the biggest smile on her face. She would have cried a lot. She would have helped me get into my gown. She would have been there to give me a big hug and tell me just how much she loved me like she always did when she saw me.

Although she was not there in person, I know she was there in spirit. After we said our vows, took our pictures and began to make our way to the reception area, I had a moment of pure serene joy hit me. It just came from nowhere. I breathed it in and I smile because I know that moment of joy was you.

That was you giving me that bear hug and that sweet smile. That was you saying, "Baby, you look like a doll."