Last night it was like I had my old life back again. I was my old self, no fear, no guilt and no hatred. I was just the old me. I woke up this morning and carried that feeling into work. I am excited. I would say it's a little premature to say the worst is over, but it's a relief to know that the old Anna is not history.

It's Official, last night at 5:30 pm est my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. He was the last remaining grandparent and by far my favourite. I know it may not seem polite to say so, but I was the 27th grandchild to my paternal grandparents who were 75 and 74 at the time. I visited them once every 7th Sunday. My maternal grandmother never really accepted the fact that we were catholic. She was a protestant and throughout my childhood was a member of several churches. My mother and her had a toxic relationship, at best. And then there was my Grandpa. He didn't care what church I went to on Sunday, and not only did he embrace my red hair (which my oma avidly denied), he was strawberry blonde himself, to his dying day.
He has been sick for a while. He suffered from advanced Parkinson's and after the death of my grandma in 2005 developed serious dementia.
When I first graduated and was unemployed I used to visit him often, mostly talking about baseball or sitting in silence. I would bring his favourite date-oatmeal cookies. They were soft so he could eat them without his teeth. The last time I saw my Grandpa was the week before I left for Calgary. I had brought his favourite cookies. My name was printed in large letters on the package so after I left he would remember I had came to see him. His wing was quarantined for the flu and I wasn't allowed to see him. The nurse, seeing how upset I was, agreed to wheel him to the window so he could wave at me. I thought it a little silly at the time but appreciated the gesture.