Nearly a week ago, I found out that the woman I have known as Grandma, my entire life, passed away. I haven't seen her since blessing #3 was a year and a half old, because the last time I was visiting she was recovering from a surgery. I can't say we were necessarily close, since I pretty much never called her and wrote her sporadically. Yet, she was still very special to me. Truth be told, I'm just horrible with relationships. I hardly even call my own parents. In part because I hate the part where the phone call is over and once again the person on the other end is a distant memory. Also, I'm just awkward in general and never know what to say. Small talk is not my forte.
I remember when I was little, I thought of my Grandma as the woman with red curly hair and frito chips for fingernails. I didn't realize people could actually have longer fingernails, though they may have been fake... One of my favorite memories of her was how she was so good at getting my brother and I to go out and pick blackberries. I'd scrunch my face up at all the creatures living in the bushes, weaving my little hand past thorns, just to pick the ripest berries I could find, as I dreamt of her delicious blackberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. This didn't happen often, as we weren't able to visit much.
As I got older we would email each other and sometimes write letters. She never told me my dreams were out of reach and was very encouraging about my writing. She was wonderful and my heart hurts to know I won't be visiting her. I can still hear her voice, though I can't really describe it. I hope it never fades.
I know that life comes to a close for pretty much everyone, and I'm thankful for each of my Grandparents and the stories they have written, but with each Grandparent I lose, my heart breaks more and I know I'm closer and closer to losing my parents.
I just pray for my Grandpa and all the others she has left behind. Peace, comfort, joy, courage, and strength.