How do I put into words the raw emotions I still feel a whole year later?
I've lost many other people in my life, of course, but none carry the same weight as losing Grams. Just before Christmas, I was admiring all the holiday cards that adorned our mantle, when I saw one "Thinking of You" card that didn't seem to fit.
The second I opened it, I saw my grandmother's handwriting and burst into tears. It was an old card to my mom, but one I had never seen. I was caught so off guard coming across her distinct writing... something I never anticipated seeing again.
It's impossible to look at my mom and not see my grandma. This constant reminder is both a blessing and a curse. It's in her face, in her laugh, in her mannerisms. My Grams.
|My favorite picture with my beautiful Grams!|
Every time I work on a crossword, I think about watching her do them. Unlike my dad, Grams always did her puzzles in pencil.
Every time I add a piece to a puzzle. I think of the times we sat together doing this, and she would tap tap tap on the table to let me know that she found a home for another piece. My mom and I still do this in her honor.
Every time I pour a mug of tea I'm reminded of the many times she brewed me my own cup and taught me to drink it hot or cold without any milk or sugar.
Every time a show comes on TV I know she'd like. She loved to watch dancing of all kinds and was always impressed with dog shows and the Iditarod. I still have to resist the urge to call her and tell her to tune in to a specific channel.
Every time I see a deck of cards. She is, after all, the one who taught me 99% of the games I know. Well, 99% of the games that don't involve alcohol. :)
Every time I see little feet. Grandma was a little person (not literally, but she qualified for dwarf status by height alone), and her feet were so tiny she had a hard time finding shoes that weren't pink and glittery. Ha!
And a million other times, often in unexpected places. Like last week when we dissected a perch. During our whole fish study, I kept thinking about how grandma taught me to fish when I was a kid. We went out on the lake at our family cabin, and after I caught my first fish, she forced me (I didn't do this enthusiastically, but she insisted my sister and I have this experience) to cut it, gut it, clean it, cook it, and eat it. I'll eat fish, but there's no one else who can make me do the rest of that stuff!
I still miss my Grams.
Every. Single. Day.