I’ve been thinking about this post for a while now, but I’m finding it hard to write. I think that’s partly because it’s not really my story, partly because it’s emotional. But there are things I want to say, so here goes.
Brian’s maternal grandmother, Nonnie, died recently. I didn’t know her all that well. In fact, I’d only met her once, when Brian and I had been married for about a year, and before I was pregnant with Kalena. I did keep in touch with her though. I get pictures of the kids regularly (1/3/6/9/12/18 months and then on birthdays) and send them out to relatives, so between sending out pictures and Christmas cards, and the occasional message on Facebook we were in contact several times a year. Brian was close to her, and called her regularly to talk.
When Daniel was born, Nonnie was especially supportive. She called and talked to us both, encouraged us, and reassured us about the things to come. See, Nonnie knew what we were going through, because she has a son who is mentally handicapped. The things she had to say meant a lot to us. She was excited for us to have Daniel and thrilled at all the great information and help we were already getting. I often find it easy to dismiss what people say to us about Daniel, since they haven’t been in our situation. So it was great to have Nonnie, for advice, for reassurance, for stories. And now she’s gone. And I don’t think I’m eloquent enough to say just how much we’ll miss her.