its been a year.

Last year at this time, my grandmother passed away. This year, my mind keeps flashing back to moments that occurred last year, as if trying to recreate the memories and make them fresh for me.
The moment the call came, my sisters broken voice on the other end of the phone.
Scrambling around my apartment, not certain what to do first. Airline, suitcase, work emails, work calls, rental car, ride to the airport, packing, crying, packing, crying.
The plane ride home. Long.
Touched ground in Tucson and so many voicemails sending their condolences. Drive home.
Silence. Hugged my sister, cried. Empty in the house. Empty in the room where she was.
And then the whirlwind of planning. Meeting with the funeral home, visiting the cemetery grounds, family calling, family emails, planning the program. Everyone arriving. The house full full full of people. Running errands, making sure we have everything. No time to process.
The night before we went to the funeral home for the wrapping of the body, I laid down on the couch to sleep. Every room in the house was filled with people. I was out in the living room. I closed my eyes and then saw her, the image of her, so clear in my mind. Lying on her bed, holding my hand, giving me advice. And that moment I lost it. It was the first time I had truly cried in mourning.
The days that followed were filled with visits and eating and organizing and lots of stories and lots of prayers. We prayed together - chanted in Persian and in English. We watched so many videos of her and laughed together and cried together.
All those memories just fill my head now. It's been a year her soul took flight. It's been a year I haven't held her soft wrinkled hands and told her I loved her. It's been a year she has been gone.
And today I miss her so much. My heart aches.