Losses

I'm evidently terrible at having a blog, and my apologies to all of you who were hoping that I would post regularly. Writing about my experience is tougher than I had imagined it would be and trying to figure out what I should write about has been a challenging feat in itself. It's hard to write when I don't feel what I felt that day was significant, however seeing as I haven't posted in several months it's easy to see that I don't allow myself to recognize my experiences or believe them to be useful to anyone who happens to read this blog. What I would like to ask of you, my readers, is to tell me topics that you would like me to write about or to ask me questions – I feel like if we do it this way I will be able to write and post more frequently so that we can make this blog a source of comfort and inspiration for other people, as that was my initial reason for starting the blog.

There has been a few things that have happened since September, I'll write about one of the things that happened for today's post. The hardest has been the passing of my grandmother – my Mom's mom. Now, my grandmother was no ordinary grandmother, although I doubt anyone would ever suggest that their grandmother was anything other than extraordinary, but I digress. Nan Norman was one of the most important actors in helping me and my family get over what had happened to us. She supported us in every way possible, but most importantly she gave us the love we needed to stay strong and to overcome our hardships. Nan hadn't been one of the first people to know when I first told – we actually didn't tell her till months afterword, as my Pop, her husband, was sick with cancer and passed away exactly two months after I told Josh. Even through her heartache and grief she was our rock, and there are no words of gratitude that will suffice for what she did for us through those 10 years.

I've lost several people over the years, but there hasn't been a loss that has hurt my heart so badly as hers. She passed on December 17, 2013, just before Christmas, after a long, long struggle with sickness. Number 17 continues to be my unlucky number, as everything bad that has ever happened to me has happened on a 17^th. Nan wasn't just my grandmother, she was one of my best friends, and she was a second mom to me and my brothers. We had a special bond, the two of us, and I didn't feel like there was anything I couldn't tell her or that she couldn't tell me. I would call her up whenever I needed someone to talk to, many times about the challenges I was facing in dealing with my abuse, and she would always listen, she would share my pain, cry with me, be angry with me, laugh with me. Even years after I had told, Nan has been one of few people who I could trust with my pain entirely and who I knew felt my pain as deeply as I did. While I've never wanted to project my pain onto anyone else, it was comforting to know that I had someone to share it with me, and she did. I lost one of the most important people that I had in my life, one of the few people who helped me carry the burden of my abuse, one of the people who loved me wholeheartedly without fail, one of my biggest teachers in life, and one who believed I could do anything I set my mind to. I'm missing one of the pillars of my strength, I'm lopsided now, and there's nothing that can take her place.

What few people know about my Nan is that she was unknowingly the person who helped me see what was happening to me was wrong. Aaron and I were at Nan and Pops for a sleepover when I was 8 and he was 11. We were in the room we called our Uncle's and were watching a made-for-TV-movie. It was about a daughter who had a little sister and brother, and her Dad was sexually abusing her. She was the oldest and didn't want her father to do the same thing to her siblings as he done to her, so she would make sure it happened to her and not to them. (I have looked high and low for this movie but have failed in my efforts). I remember Nan coming into the room to talk to us both about sexual abuse and I can still hear her say as plain as day, “It doesn't matter if it's your dad, your grandfather, your mother, anyone. They're not allowed to do this to you and if they do, tell somebody.” She was the one who saved me, indirectly, unknowingly. I never told her that and I don't know why. I never told her that and I should have.

Thank you Nan for everything that you did for me, Mom, and the boys. Thank you for saving me. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how much I think of you, how much I miss you. I had you in my life for 21 years, but I'll have you in my heart forever.

As you can see, she is a very important person in my life. She's the first person I've lost who was essential to me and my healing process over the years, and I feel lost without her. This is a new struggle for me as I never realized that over time the people who were so integral to my experience would someday be gone. I know that she's with me now in a different way but the grief is never ending.

Peace, love, and happiness,

Kora Liegh

UPDATE: After I posted my blog today, my brother Aaron contacted me to tell me that he found the video when he searched again today. The movie is Liar Liar (1993). It can be found on Youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeReymnxJmw. 

Nan and I