When I was little, I found two passions; soccer, and music.
My grandmother, the soccer enthusiast she is so wonderfully known as, loved my passion for both. She supported every decision I made, right up until she left. And best of all, she gave the most incredible and calming hugs. A hug from her could fix anything. Losing her, was the hardest, and most gut wrenching thing that I’ve ever gone through. She was my biggest fan, supporter, and the only idol I ever needed. Six years later, I still struggle with knowing I can’t ask her what to do.
I know I fell her hugging me, her tight, warm, and comforting hugs. It’s not an obvious sign, but it’s all I need.
When my soccer team won the indoor championship, all I could feel was her hugging me, telling me how proud she was.
When my team lost in the finals, 1-0, one of only three goals I had let past my goal post the entire season, I could feel her hugging me, telling me how proud she was.
I couldn’t ask her how she felt about me stopping playing soccer. I wanted more than anything to keep playing, but injury and incredible pressure made me lose the fire I had for it. I wanted more than anything to ask her that she was okay with me not playing anymore. So I asked her. And I could feel her hugging me.
When I was given a spot in my university’s choir, I could feel her hugging me, telling me how proud she was.
When I was finally cast in a college production of a musical, I could feel her hugging me, telling me how proud she was.
I recently got a tattoo, of the last thing she said to me. “Saying I love you, is never enough”. When the artist was finished, I almost couldn’t look at it. It was so overwhelming, having her words marked on me forever. But as soon as I looked in the mirror, I felt her hug. I started crying at the moment. While I’ll never know if she approved of tattoos or not, all I can think, is that she was there with me, hugging me.
Whenever I have a difficult task to face, or question to answer, I can feel her hug, telling me I’m doing the right thing. It might not be her words and her voice that I desperately want to hear just one more time, but it’s good enough for me. I miss her more and more everyday, I want her at my wedding, at my college graduation. As long as I always have her hugs at my biggest moments, I’ll be the luckiest granddaughter in the world.
Alexa Moran
Early Childhood & Special Education
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