Thirty years ago this February, my grandmother (Ninny) died.  I can’t believe it’s been that long.  In some ways it seems like just yesterday my mother was telling me Ninny needed an operation on her stomach.  In can still picture her the day she came home from the hospital, weak and gaunt.  I can remember how she steadily lost even more weight over the next 18 months. And I get an instant stomachache when I remember the overwhelming fear and uncertainty that swirled around me when she died.   (While my parents weren’t neglectful, they were young when I was born.  Ninny offered me the stability and security they weren’t able to give.)

Thirty years is an awfully long time.  On one hand, it seems impossible that I lived that long without her.  On the other, seems like she was never physically here at all.  Some days I honestly have a tough time remembering what life was like, what I was like, when she was still alive.  Like the Wizard of Oz movie, there are two parts of me, one part in techno color (before death) and the other in black and white (after death.)  The techno color Danielle is a little fuzzy in my memory.    Back then, was I optimistic?  Yes.  Was I naïve?  Of course.  Was I hopeful for the future?  Absolutely.   Then life threw me a curve and all that changed.

A lot has happened in the 30 years between then and now.  For 2-1/2 decades I was defined by my denial, anger and grief.  I made mistakes (millions), lived selfishly (I lost someone I loved, wasn’t I entitled?) and spent far too much time feeling sorry for myself.  And in the end, it brought me nothing but more grief, anger, sadness and eventually, depression.

Today I’ve settled into a nice life as a wife and mother of a teenager but it’s only recently I’ve come to understand how Ninny’s death affected my life and made me who I am.  Losing someone you love sucks, I’ll be the first to admit it, but like everything else in life, you can learn from it and become a better person.  Realizing that came in a series of baby steps, hits and misses, triumphs and failures.  Honestly, there isn’t a therapy I haven’t tried. Alternative medicine, relaxation techniques, meditation, visualization, drugs (as in anti-depressants) and support groups…been there, done that!     

What’s important is that I didn’t give up.  I’m not always a “glass-is-half-full” kind of person but I am competitive and I used that to my advantage.  When dealing with my depression and grief, no matter how hard things were, I was determined not to let it beat me.  It’s been a long battle but guess what?  My perseverance paid off.  Sure there are days when I feel sad or hopeless, but they occur with less severity and frequency than they once had.

So, what’s the moral of my story?  To have hope, to not give up, to understand that what you are feeling can temporary, to believe you can get better and to know that you aren’t alone.