Dear Grandma...
an open letter to my dearly missed grandmother
Dear Grandma,
It’s November nineteenth. I really had no idea I’d be writing about you in my journal on your birthday. You left me too soon, and even though you told me you were going to, I didn’t want to believe you.
Saying I long for you or any other variation of it just feels meaningless. I wish I could call you right now, not just to wish a happy birthday, but to listen to your stories and to hear you talk.
The permanence and finality of your absence has settled in. The understanding that now I’ll be the only one carrying the memories that only you and I shared. Some stories are as visceral as the last time I touched your casket before it was taken away to be cremated, and I heard the fire being ignited behind the walls.
Other memories are as delicate as the four pink roses I gave you that last time. Some are even more delicate, like the many silk scarves you left me. I had no clue how to care for them until I read the little label explaining what to do and what not to do.
I wish these feelings and memories also came with a “how to care for” tag stitched into them.
Many late nights, you were a little owl after all, you and I shared memories that no one else has access to. And although I feel privileged to have them, I also fear they will disappear with me one day.
I found a card I had sent you for your birthday when I was only fourteen. I told you that “I love you into being and even with all your difficulties”. I truly did, but I feel even more filled with love to know you loved me just as intensely and unconditionally.
We loved each other so much that writing love in the past tense feels like a sin.
When I was packing your house up, I felt your presence. I know you were there, I know you saw me. I felt you. I hope you heard me talking to you, and I hope you didn’t hear me cry.
I’ll never forget your love and I’ll never forget your gentleness. I’ll never forget you.
Your laughter, our stories, and our many, many trips keep flashing through my mind. My love for you will never stop pulsing through my veins.
Until we meet again,
Seu “filhote” e neto,
PH
