I’ve wanted to write this post for a couple of weeks now. Until now, I couldn’t find the right words. I suppose my mind was a blur. The days since I felt your life slip away through my fingertips have been strange. A strange fog has spread around my mind and I haven’t been able to understand that you really are gone. I think of it less of a loss now. I know you’re safe and I know you’re happy.
I have the most amazing memories of you. I know you were always there for me and the family. You would press everybody for information and make sure that we were all okay. You were, in Ashley’s words: “unintentionally funny”. I will always remember your love for shopping and your zest for life. Often times when a person dies, people come up with nice things to say. A lot of the time, it seems that they are just embellishing. However, I have not once had cause to complain about you. All of my memories are happy ones.
I am often brought back to being seven years old. I would sleep over and you would let me watch whatever TV shows I wanted. Even the ones mom didn’t agree with. One of the blankets on my bed, you gave me. Why? You remembered that I would insist to curl up with it on the couch. Your consideration for others surpassed anybody else I have ever known. When I think about it, it’s impossible to be bitter for “losing” you. I am so blessed to have ever loved you. I am blessed that you are my grandmother.
When people die, they often become “was” instead of “are”. I refuse to acknowledge that silly notion. You always will be amazing. You will always be one of the most amazing women I know. Also, I will always love you, and I know you will always love me.
This isn’t goodbye, this is simply:
Thank you, I love you.