You left us six years ago. Yet it feels as if you’re still here. I hear your voice in my head, just as if you were answering the phone (“Heeeeello?”). Whenever I know they’re showing a movie on TV that I wish you could have seen, for a long time I’d automatically reach for my phone to call you. Sometimes I catch a whiff of your perfume, I notice the sales at your favorite store, and I cook your recipes as best I can. The truth is, Grandma, you’re gone, and I miss you terribly.
You took my first little princess with you just a little while before you left. You were so proud of all your great-grandchildren. You know, Grandma, I’ve had another little princess. You now have almost a dozen new little ones to love from up above. I know you’re happy to see how beautiful and smart they are. I talk about you to my youngest; to her, you’re Grandma in heaven. I wish you could have taken her with you, too. Sometimes, I could swear you’re right here with us, and when I hold her in my arms, I feel like you’re joining our embrace.
Grandma, I’m getting married. Yes, I’ve found him. I know you know that things haven’t always been as perfect as in the movies, but we love each other so much. We know we’ll still love each other even when things aren’t so perfect. I know you were there when I tried on my dress. I’ll have a little memento of you with me on that day. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through the day without thinking of you.
We’ve kept all the traditions: we have Easter lunch together, and we still get together for Christmas and New Year’s. When we go apple-picking at your favorite spot, we toss the smallest apple we find into the water, just like you used to love doing. Even though we’ve celebrated these holidays many times since you left, we know you’re always there with us. I see you dancing; I see your sons-in-law teasing you. I see you, happy with your loved ones.
Grandma, I remember that last day. We shared memories (you remember, don’t you, when we used to go to the grocery store? And when you’d sleep over at our house because Dad was away for the weekend?). I remember seeing you, so small, but I know you were happy. We were all there… every one of us.
Grandma, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying when I talk about you with my kids, but every year on August 13—your birthday—I call out to you in my head, and you answer, “Heeeeelllllooo?” and I whisper to the sky: Happy birthday, Grandma!!