It’s been nearly a year since you left this earth and it’s still hard for me to acknowledge. I know I’ve been through all five stages of grief but somehow over the course of this year, I’ve felt like I’ve started the process over and over.
Your memory lives on, there’s no doubt about that. We laugh and cry at the memories you’ve given us. I still have all the yarn and crochet hooks you gave me. I am too afraid to use it because it smells like you and I never want to forget that scent. I have your sewing machine that you were so eager to give me. I haven’t used it yet because I don’t have you to teach me how to work it. I have the tennis bracelet that you gave me but it hasn’t been worn much. I’m too afraid to lose it. I found the mink coat you gave me. Texas heat just doesn’t allow me to wear it! I’m afraid to lose these remnants of you so I’m too afraid to use them. I don’t want to lose you again. It hurts too much.
I cried so much when we held your service on my Dad’s birthday. All you ever wanted was the entire family together. And here we all were. Together at last. But these weren’t the circumstances we wanted. You were missing. Why couldn’t they come around before? Why couldn’t they visit and call you once a week like us? Did she hate you that much? It was so bittersweet but overall, I was sad because of the reality check that it was. I’ve never seen Gramps so sad. I wished with all my heart that I could help take away the pain but he lost the love of his life, any comfort was impossible.
I still find you in everything I do – craft, cook, speaking, reading, gardening- everything. I still cry like a baby when we get into conversation about you. Sometimes I find myself laughing until I cry. My mom says I’m a lot like you – crafty and smart-assy. I’m proud of that.
I hope we’re making you proud. I hope you’re having a blast up there with Uncle David. I’m sure he missed you for all those years just how we’re missing you now.
We miss you, Grams.