9-22-2023

I miss you Grandma,

I know I'm not supposed to start a letter like that, but I’m also not supposed to write to someone who is no longer with us. You know that I don’t believe in second lives, resurrection, heaven or hell, but right now I hope there is something, and that wherever you are, you can read this. If I’m completely honest I don’t know what I’m going to write, or why I’m doing it, but somehow it feels like it’s the right thing to do, even if I don’t know if you will be able to read it.

I still remember the feeling of being in your arms, the way everything was suddenly bright yellow. The way birds started singing a catchy song. The way I started smelling the amazing cakes you made, the croquets in Christmas, and the hot chocolate in winter. The way you hugged me like it was the last time, but right now they don’t feel enough, I wish I could have at least one more.

I still remember playing cards with you, the way you let me win so that everything could be purple. The way you taught me new games, so that everything could sound like my favorite song. The way you made me laugh like it was the last time, but right now it’s hard to do it, I wish you could make me laugh at least one more time.

I still remember baking desserts with you, the way making San Blass cakes made everything orange. The way making croquettes made me hear a choir of angels singing. The way you cooked everything like it was the last time, but right now I wish I could have one last meal made by you, because everything else tastes bad now.

I still remember the afternoons in your house, the way you made every color brighter, even black looked happy. The way time ran away with you, but it was never enough. The way our time together had the best soundtrack ever. The way you were with me like it was the last time, but right now I wish I had now last afternoon with you, because doing anything else feels wrong.

Tell me Grandma, how am I supposed to live without all those things? How am I supposed to live, if everything is gray now, if the birds have stopped singing and I can’t hear my favorite song anymore? I can still smell the desserts you made when I’m in your kitchen, but it’s mixed with a deadly smell now, it’s not my favorite anymore, now it hurts.

With all the love in the world,

Your beloved granddaughter.