Grandma (Or Grandma Ree as Ezekiel calls you),
It’s been one year without you, and it feels like yesterday, especially to my 4 year old. For not seeing you so much, he sure misses you, and lets me know every day. He says you come to him in his dreams, he feels you in the car we drive that we got due to you leaving us, and he prays about you always. He feels you dancing in his heart, and I don’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t dance much. He also thinks you are with Michael Jackson dancing. I told him, probably Elvis, not so much Michael. He doesn’t understand that one.
I feel you when I cook, when I do the dishes, when I’m driving your car, and when I open my china cabinet. It smells just like your house because of all of the treasures you have gifted me.
You just wanted us to know how to play a musical instrument
And I did, but not with my whole heart. Ezekiel, he plays the violin, the air guitar, the drums, and his piano with his WHOLE heart. Just like you would have wanted. I know you love listening to it. Especially when he is singing everything at the top of his lungs.
Being your first Grandchild, I didn’t feel the warm and fuzzy’s to be honest, but times were different then. You were hard on me, and so was Dad, so I guess he comes by it honestly. In your old age, Dad’s too, you softened. My son saw the softness. He tells me everyday he misses your big heart, and I love that is how he saw you.
It’s been hard on all of us to lose you.
I’ve had a hard time because besides Nonie, who I didn’t see as often, you are the only person in my family that has died. Death is my weak spot. It drives my anxiety. It drives my fears. You dying, has taught me more in one year, than I have in the past 30. My son handled it with grace, positivity, and completely fearless. Sure he misses you, but he knows what you are up to now. He is excited to see you again. I fear the days without people. He has taught me to change. He softens the blow.
I don’t even know what happened the last time I saw you, I’ve tried to remember. It’s Mom brain. I’m sure it ended with a hug and a kiss on my cheek, just like it always did. I’m sure you cried 2 or 3 times while I was there, because you always did. Just like I am through this whole letter. I hope you felt loved. I hope you felt adored.
I’m learning, working through things in my life, that you and I loved people the same way. Through food and gifts (or money in your case). I blame you partly for me being a fat kid, and I say it jokingly, but it was probably true. You loved us by giving us medium sized hamburger pizza slices with ranch for dipping, strawberries covered with white sugar, and popcorn after school. Just for a snack. You made the best Fried Chicken, Butterballs & Noodles, Bierox, and award winning Pies. Just to name a few. I got a kick out of how much you liked Food Network in your old age. You thought some of those things Trisha Yearwood said and cooked were revolutionary. I always thought you could give them a major run for their money, but if that brought you entertainment!
I could recap memories all day, but I won’t. Instead, we are going to continue keeping you in our every day car rides and every night prayers. Thank you for everything you did for me. For us. Thank you for the best memories. Thank you for all you left for us, and did to take care of us. Until we see you.