The ceiling is moving.  The gentle breeze of the fan blows my hair into my eyes.  I blink and everything is still.  Sleep eludes me and I can’t think; my mind is an empty chasm of black, nothing is right.  My body slowly responds to the need to move, to get up, to do something, but my mind can’t wrap around what’s about to happen.  A dress hangs in the corner, black and white.  I can’t put it on, not yet anyway.  Outside my room, the house is still asleep, the snores of my family fill the hallway.  Should I be asleep too?  I crawl back into bed, then all at once sleep finds me and I disappear into a calming slumber.

Hours later I awake to shaking shoulders and my mother’s voice, “Hey honey, breakfast is ready.”  As my mother leaves, the smells of French toast finally make it to my bedroom. In a flash, I’m out of bed and headed for the stairs.  Running around in my pajamas with food in my hands, I decide it’s time for the dress.

The walk up the steps is much too quick, my feet drag against the floor and then all at once the dress is upon me.  Darkness engulfs me and I remember all the times that this was the scary part.   As my head appears through the top, I realize looking into the mirror is my new fear.  I don’t have to look; I can feel all the details of everything I was wearing.  The silky material, the long ruffles down the front, it would’ve been beautiful in color, but today black is the new purple.  My hair is hopeless, but the more pressing problem, where is my brush?  I look everywhere, on dressers, inside clothes, even under my pillow and then my little brother walks in brushing what little hair he has atop his 11 year old head.  Annoyed by his ignorance, I snatch the brush away and get back to work.  After a neverending struggle, I look in the mirror and hate what I see in front of me, a bunch of black and eyes the size of saucers.  Why do I have to go somewhere I never want to experience or remember?

I cruise through the downstairs, not looking at a single soul I pass. I need air, fresh air the thrilling kind that only a windy summer day can bring.  The sun is shining.  It’s a gorgeous morning and I can’t stop to enjoy it.  After a few deep breaths, hurried yells can be heard from inside my house.  Today the Hills will not be late.  Luke is going to have to pick up the pace and move at a speed faster than his normal slow.  I climb into the car and don’t even notice the rest of my family joining me and starting towards our destination.     

The ride is silent, and all too soon the church comes into view.  We walk in and all eyes are on us, we might as well have a sign on our heads saying, “Oh Lord help us!” I try to go unnoticed, but my attempts to be natural and unseen are futile.  People everywhere try to hug me and I run into the church.  I’m a big girl.  I can be strong on my own.  As I look up the aisle, the casket sits in front of me.  I think to myself, that will not be me.  I will not spend the end in a box.

Somehow my dad comes up behind me and pushes me into the first pew, family only.  That’s me, my grandma is the one in that hollow box up front.  The one that will go into the ground and never be seen again.  Why did it have to be her?  The what ifs and whys fill every space inside my mind.  All these irrational thoughts that I know could never happen, but I hoped they would.  Grandma showing up at our house for dinner, or her calling me up to see how I was or seeing her inside her house while I took on all the kids.  Anything but her laying inside that box, anything but her being gone forever. 

The church is filled with people, so many people loved her, but none more than me.  A video filled with memories comes onto a screen, my memories, my treasured moments.  All these daily events that at the time I took for granted.  All those times making cookies, and hitting walnuts and cleaning the porch, all those card games, never going to happen again.  Despite everything, those memories keep me afloat.  I laugh as I think back to times I didn't know I still remembered.  The screen goes black and it's over, like her life, like my life with her.  People say a couple words, but I'm in my own head, blocking out everything that might make this real.  If I don't live it, it can't happen.  That strategy doesn't work out so well.  All the fundamental procedures happen and soon it’s time for the part I’ve been truly dreading, the cemetery.

In the car I try to prepare myself, but how can you get yourself ready for your grandma to enter the ground? Putting her into a hole for the rest of this world and never be able to actually see her again.  The plot is in the back and cars are everywhere, I’ve never been to a cemetery and today wasn’t my idea of the perfect day to try new things.  A fake green grass platform sits in the middle of the crowd.  How did they get here so much faster than us?  The casket is on an elevator, ready to go down into what seems like a mammoth sized hole in the ground.  The flowers on top of Grandma try to make things look happier.  I walk up and pick a rose from its colorful base, red, roses should be red.  I suspect my parents will disapprove, but to my surprise they are glad that I saved one last thing to remind me of the grandma I had lost too soon.  My younger cousins eye the bouquet and with my guidance each of them picks one flower for themselves. 

I can't help thinking they never got to know Grandma.  Never.  Kenzie isn't even one yet and she won't even remember her or know to remember.  Out of all of us, I'm the luckiest.  I was able to spend the most time with her to love her more than anyone.  I’m going to miss her the most.  I will cry the most, mourn the most and pray to God every night to give her back.  To just have her back for one hug and an I love you; anything to hear her voice again.  The combination of these thoughts sends me to tears, and they're not just silent streams running down my face.  These are the huge kind that completely soak my entire face.  They just keep coming and coming, I press my face into my mom’s shoulder to muffle my cries.  Her shirt is now extremely wet, the dark tear stain expanding every second.  People see me crying and try to hug me or comfort me but nothing is working.  The last person to come is Saige, her face is almost as teary as mine, but my eyes have their own signature look.  We just hold each other and cry together.  The people around us stare.  Don’t they know it’s impolite?  The casket is getting lower and lower.  I briefly wonder if they gave her food just in case, but the thought is quickly dismissed from my mind.  The tears still haven’t stopped, how can I cry this much?  I have to run out of water at some point, but the water works are still working like a charm.  People are still staring at me so I try to get ahold of myself.  “Stop crying, you’re being a baby.  You’re the oldest, set an example for the little ones.”  The angry thoughts bring my cries down to a silent whimper.  Of course everyone can see my face, the tell tale sign I was balling my eyes out.  The three perfect little white circles around my eyes don’t disappear that rapidly.  I’ll be crying Hannah for at least another hour but I knew crying would be inevitable.  My fate was sealed as soon as I stepped into the car on this once beautiful summer morning.  

Now as I enter our car once again, I tell myself you will come back. 

The little things remind me of her everyday. The tulips in the spring, the fall colors and the winter winds that blows against my house are her little ways of checking on me.  All of my family’s laughs sound like her laughing and I know that she’d be laughing right along with us.  My family’s happiness and love help me to not be the emotional wreck that I once was, but I still cry at the thought of her gone forever.  When in truth she will never be gone, she will always be in my heart and mind.  She will always be looking out for me and everyday when I look up at the sky and say I love you I know she hears me, and I know she is saying I love you too.