When we first met, you had already lived over half of your lifetime and I was just a tiny monkey-faced girl awed by my new surroundings. Growing up, I took for granted your presence in our life. The holidays we shared as family since our respective relations lived too far away to visit on those occasions, the special meals you cooked for us just because you wanted to do something nice for our family, how you always made lemon meringue pie for dessert when I told you it was my favorite.
In recent years I began calling you “Grandma” because I had come to realize that that special title really doesn’t have to be reserved for those related to you. You had been everything to me that a “real” grandma would have been. And yet, I never really knew you. Once, you were my age with your raven hair and flashing blue eyes. Sometimes I got a glimpse of that young woman in a story you’d tell, and I wondered about your life before I knew you. I always thought I’d have more time to get to know that girl and who she’d become. What were your dreams? Did the hopes you’d had when you were young blossom into what you’d imagined they’d be? I’ll never know now and I am so sorry I took for granted that we’d always have another day, another chance to talk.
I’m so sorry I wasn’t there on Wednesday when you took your last breath. But I’m so glad that you weren’t there alone, that Mom was there holding your hands and calling the angels to take you home. What I remember now is that last day I saw you, how cheerful you were and how I kissed your forehead when I said goodbye. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. I hope it’s a beautiful day where you are now and that the sun is warming your face always.
I love you,