Yesterday was the two year anniversary of my grandmother’s passing. Yesterday was blue skies and yellow, late winter sunshine all day. Not a cloud to be seen. It was even warm in the afternoon when my partner and I went for a walk at a local dog park. My grandmother loved the sunshine. I believe the sun shone yesterday in memory of her.

My grandmother’s passing was a catalyst for the woman I am now. It was a day that shattered me in more ways than one. My increasingly unhappy marriage was building something in me I was too scared to name. And on the morning when I went to say goodbye to her, the day I most needed support and encouragement from my spouse, he was nowhere to be seen. I drove to my parent’s house alone. I was there for hours without him, even though he promised he would be there within one hour of my arrival. He ignored my texts. And by the time he did arrive, I was too distraught, too angry, too consumed by grief to even know how to deal with his detachment and neglect.

The months following her death, my ex and I felt a small resurgence in passion between us. I know now that we both could sense what was coming. I think a part of me knew, too, that my marriage died inside of me the moment my grandmother left this earth. She never warmed to my ex. And he never warmed to her, either. She was “nice” to him because I loved him, and no other reason. Her death made me question who I was and where I was going in life. Did I want to be miserable? Did I want to live with regrets?

My ex and I had some final “happy” moments from March to July of 2019. They weren’t many, and they were only happy by comparison of what the rest of our marriage had become. The more I had to live without my grandmother, the more I questioned what I was getting out of my life, out of my marriage. How much had I given up for him? And how little had he given up for me? I can’t look back on the night I left my ex and not see my grandmother’s influence. I kept asking myself, would she want me to stay with this man who makes me miserable? Who makes me hate myself? If she knew half of what I have endured in this marriage, what would she tell me to do?

I knew the answer to that question the moment I asked it.

In leaving my ex, I began to chart a course for myself that I only ever dreamed could be my own. It was the first step on my road of no longer taking people’s shit. I started putting myself first, which is hard to do when the person you love the most makes you feel small and insignificant. I started recognizing all the ways I had been shrinking myself to make room for others. And as hard as it is to break toxic habits, I committed to doing just that. I didn’t want my trauma to remain unresolved. I didn’t want it to contaminate every subsequent relationship. And I didn’t want to keep living with the self-loathing my ex implanted in me. Other than leaving him, learning to love myself was the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. And I still have a lot to learn.

But I am no longer miserable. I miss my grandmother every single day and I want so badly for her to see the woman I am today, but I also can see that her death changed me. I mourn her. I remember her. I honor her. But I also thank her for setting an example I never knew I would learn from, even after she left this world. She was not a perfect person, and nor did she claim to be. But she loved me tremendously and only wanted what was best for me. I know she would be immensely proud of my growth, of my healing, and of my efforts to rebuild my life. I’ve had a lot of support from my parents, which has made a huge difference, and even though she’s not with us in the flesh, I know my grandmother has supported me, too.

So today I think back and remember her. I honor her. And I thank her for everything she ever taught me, because I know the strength I had to leave my ex came in large part from her. The women in my family are strong and courageous as fuck. The fire in my bones is the same fire that burned in her and my mother. Today is for revering that fire.