Posted on December 12, 2018 · 1 min read

My grandmother passed away Monday, December 10, 2018. I don’t know how to feel. I cried a couple tears at my desk at work and kept coding for a couple hours. Part of me knew this day would occur. Part of me didn’t expect it so soon. When I last saw her in October, she promised she’d go to the polls for early voting!

The Hamilton refrain, “why do you write like you’re running out of time,” have never felt more relevant.

Last Christmas I weeped at a stoplight. I had just left my grandfather, and realized that might be my last visit. He is physically healthy, but fading mentally. My cousins had jokingly mentioned him having dementia, and I thought they were exaggerating. It wasn’t until he asked me the same question a few seconds after my having answered the question that I realized how wrong I was.

My grandfather spent his birthday, Tuesday, making funeral arrangements for his wife. Part of me hopes the dementia eases the grief.

My grandmother played many roles as matriarch of the Majors Family. She was a mother to six, grandmother to nineteen, and great-grandmother to many more. She was our caretaker, chef, and chauffeur. She was our advisor and guardian. She was all of this and so much more.

I will miss Mother.