Just Some Of The Things I’d Say If You Were Still Here

To Granny, with endless love.

When the light turns green at a busy intersection, I don’t start driving immediately. I wait a few seconds longer than most probably would because that’s what you used to do. You said you did this because you never knew who was in a rush and might run the accompanying red light as a result. Thank you for teaching me that. I know that’s saved me more times than once.

You always remembered the little things and moments. After you and Grandpa sold the cottage in Frankfort, you gave me a few Raggedy Ann dolls that used to live up there. I looked at you slightly perplexed as you handed them to me. “You said you loved them when you were five,” you said matter-oh-factly. I had forgotten, but you did not.

You innately knew how to make everyone feel loved and seen. In fact, you loved people in the way I wish the whole world knew how to do. Without judgment, without fear, without agenda.

I count Ford Flexes when I’m out and about because you said you used to do that. My GOD, you loved that car. It drives so smoothly and so quietly, you used to remark. Ford should have hired you to star in ads, I think their sales would have skyrocketed.

The week you passed away, I saw more Flexes than I’d ever seen before. I like to think that was your way of saying hi, and that you were okay, as silly as that probably sounds.

I moved to Colorado for a few years. I published four books, the last one dedicated to you and Grandpa. I adopted a dog and named him Bruce. You would love him. He is scrappy and goofy and energetic and a little too much. Kind of like me, if we’re being honest.

I’m always curious about what you’d say about the world right now. Sometimes, I’m glad you didn’t see everything going on.

There are instances when I have a strange urge to call you even though it’s been almost six years since I could, and almost two since you left for good. I actually have your home number saved in my phone as “Granny and Grandpa,” even though only Grandpa lives there now. I will never change it. Because I still feel your warmth when I walk in the door.

I still feel you pretty much everywhere, honestly. I think we all do.

We will be drinking chardonnay with ice tonight (and probably ordering in some Olga’s). Happy second heavenly birthday, Granny. We love and miss you so much.