A Letter for Grandma

This is not a happy travel story. Nor is it a cute childrens' book (as the title may suggest). This is pensive, moody and sentimental babbling. I've got to have somewhere to put it. And maybe if you're one of the people I haven't written back the last couple of days, you'll know why. I'm drifting in weirdness, and in and out of sadness a bit today.

On Sunday, My Grandma Ginny died. Which means it was crazy 0-clock in my parents' early Monday morning when they called me as I was making dinner. Beside the point. What is the point? I'm not sure there is one. I only ever knew one grandma, and now she's gone. And one thing that I've just learned really sucks about living so very far over so very many seas, is how impossible it just might be to go to the funerals of loved ones.
No, I'm not going to start whining and let her passing be an excuse for me to have a pity party.

It's just so weird. You think grandparents' dying is something that happens. It's not uncommon, it's not unexpected. Except when it's your own. Then it doesn't even matter that they're past 80 -- she was still going bowling and having lively conversation. It took me completely by surprise.

So anyway, I can't go to the funeral, so I wrote this letter. It's things I wish I could have said to her, some things I want to keep in words. I'm just putting it here cause it's my little way of making sure she's remembered.

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Grandma Ginny,

I didn’t get to say goodbye this time. The last time I hugged you with farewell tears, you had come all the way out to Minnesota to celebrate my wedding. You introduced me to your husband Walt; watching the two of you together, you seemed so youthful and confident and happy, you were a beautiful example of married life for me.

You were always a woman I admired for your strength and boldness. You were never afraid to speak your mind. During my college days, you kept me well aware that I should let my hair grow out long again - I was never going to catch a man with such short hair! And you were so happy to see that I had indeed finally acquired both a ponytail and a good man!

I wish I could have told you how much you mean to me. I wonder if you already know? You were my consistent grandparent. You were the one I always depended on to be my grandma. We were often far apart in miles, but you were always there.

In my family, you laughingly called the month of March “Thurberch,” for all the birthdays and anniversaries we celebrate at this time. Every March, Grandma Ginny, your cards came. One by one they came, and decorated our home with paper flowers and faithful love – they were our signs of spring. We will miss them now.

You crocheted for us the most beautiful, warm Afghans. You sent them wherever we were living at the time. No matter how far away we were, you helped keep us warm and loved.

I pray that you know how much you are loved, how much your life has meant to your family, how thankful we are for who you are.

Love you Grandma. You are remembered, always,
Alicia
(Your "Sunshine Girl")