Dear Grandmom,
This past week
SH and I were cleaning out a closet in the guest room. When we opened up one of the boxes in the closet I was taken aback. I wasn't expecting to find what was in there - things that had been buried not only in this closet, but also deep in the corners of my mind.
There was your obituary, contents of your desk that we never took the time to sort through and some boxes filled with your costume jewelry (don't worry, I've had your engagement/wedding ring and pearls safe the whole time).
The things in this box, they hold no monetary value only priceless memories. A blue and white beaded necklace that you wore to Penn State Football Games, Grandad's baby ring, a doll that sat on your dresser for as long as I can remember, pictures, letters, my wedding invitation. Things that made me sit there and cry as I went through them. Cry because I miss you. Cry because I'm happy we share so many happy memories. Cry because sometimes memories aren't enough when all I really want is to call you on the phone and tell you I love you or to drive to Pennsylvania and give you a hug.
It's hard to believe it's been 3 1/2 years since you've been gone, 8 years since grandad's been gone, a year since Aunt Anne left us. Our small family is really small now.
Grandmom, I had forgotten that years ago I had created a blog for the family to keep up on our lives. Even though you and Grandad had gotten a computer, you never went on after he passed away. I had forgotten that I would print out my blog posts and send them to you.
Also among those blog posts were pictures and letters I had sent. There was one of SH and my dad working on my dad's boat. I smiled when I saw you had written on the back of the picture "Sarah's boyfriend, 2005" always so diligent in labeling pictures!
I was saddened when I found our wedding invitation, and the picture book we made for you after the wedding. It absolutely broke my heart you weren't able to be there. I know the trip would have been too much for you, you were so frail. I know you felt the same sadness, but I also hope you felt how close you were to my heart that day. I proudly carried the same handkerchief down the aisle that your mother carried, that you carried, that Aunt Anne carried....
I laughed when I found pictures of Spike. I definitely got my love of animals (and ice cream!) from you and Grandad. You loved my dog. When I would call to tell you that we were coming to visit, your first question was always "are you bringing Spike?" (or "that dog" in the later years when your memory was failing). Me: Yes Gmom, I am bringing Spike. SH and I are also coming. You: Oh, I am looking forward to seeing that dog.
Spike was always so good in the home when we came to visit you. You'd sit with him for hours. Remember how you used to try and convince us that we should leave him there? That you would walk, feed and take care of him. Even though you couldn't walk, feed or take care of yourself. You had such a big heart. It's only fitting that the morning you passed away, we were told you had cuddled a little black puppy as you were falling asleep.
It hurt to go through these things. I could smell your perfume in the old jewelry boxes, I could picture you wearing the jewelry, I could see you smile as you read the letters and looked at the pictures. It was like you were sitting next to me reliving memories. Maybe you were. I hope you were.
I miss, and love you so very much.