Open Letter To My Beautiful Grandmother
Today, I got news that I wish I would never have to hear.
I was under the impression that you were going to be around forever for the big things, like dance with me at my wedding, meet my kids, see me open my own business…but also for the little things, like weekly conversations about your day and how bridge went, discussing the latest drama on the bachelor/bachelorette, what special guy is in my life, plans on my next visit to see you, or the occasional crude comment or joke from you. Even though you couldn’t be there for the big things; I got to show you my successes as an entrepreneur. I got to dance with you at Christina and Scott’s wedding. I got to see you meet your great grand kids. Everyday we talked I was blessed with all the little things.
You are fearless, beautiful, and so filled with life that it seemed like you could forever cheat death.
Time got away from me. There never seems to be enough time. Never enough time to hear all your stories. Never enough time to see you. Never enough time to spend with you. And just like that, time stops.
Snippets of memories with you struggle to the forefront of my mind as I try to hold on to each and every one of them not wanting to let them go, fearing that if I do they’ll disappear. I need to talk about you so people know you because it’s selfish of me to keep a beautiful gem like you hidden. I need to listen to those who have their own memories of you to share so it’s like I get to know you all over again.
I’m not all sad, though. I know that you would say something like, “I don’t need you to fuss over me.” You lived a life filled with struggles, love, family, laughter, and happiness.
You’ve always been a woman I admired and aspired to be like. The strength you have shown me all through my life is the strength I learned to have get me through my hardships and continue to use.
Your stubbornness, though it got you into some trouble more than not, reminds me every day to never apologize for who I am but to embrace it.
Your endless love you have to give to everyone in our family. You have the gift of making a special connection with each and every member of the family.
Your humor is infectious. Almost always inappropriate but always memorable and bringing smiles and laughter.
Although you can’t physically be here for everything, you were here for so many others.
You would come to visit us for holidays and even one time for my birthday that I can remember. You even came to see me a few times at the hospital.
In Maryland, I remember sitting next to you in the car while we were on our way to Benihana, I think it was, and you showed me how to make hand binoculars and stare up into the open windows of buildings and hotels we passed by asking what life was going on up there. It was so silly and yet so very entertaining. Any time we would briefly talk on the phone after that visit you’d always ask if I had my binoculars and if I’ve seen anything interesting going on.
You survived spending New Year’s Eve one year with all of us kids running upstairs to your room where you were sleeping and banging pots and pans ringing in the new year.
Even when you were at your lows you were always in good spirits, and you never ceased to express how proud you were of me for being so positive despite the cards I was dealt.
What I would give for one more phone call or video chat with you to hear your voice or laugh, to hear one more story about a memory that I was too young to remember, to play and learn card games from you, or sit down with you and have candid conversations about life.
Everything happens for a reason.
You have certainly left your mark in my world and I’m lucky to have had you be such a big part in it. Thank you for teaching me the love and humor in life. I love you more than these words could ever express.
Love your darling little granddaughter,
Sarah Bear