Two hours. That’s how long she has been gone. Such a short time but my world seems darker, colder, lonelier, without her in it. I know in time that this ache will subside, that the tears will stop, the heartache will become more bearable but I will never stop missing her, loving her…not until the day I am gone.
This is not a surprise or an unexpected loss. I knew it would happen, knew it was coming. She was 94 after all and lived a long, full life. But I am selfish and I want her here. I want to be able to send the note I have for her sitting on the edge of my desk; want to be able to call her, want to visit her one more time, sing with her again.
I want to go back to a summer day in my childhood and walk to the Columbia River with her, listening as she describes the different plants and flowers; stand by the railroad tracks holding her hand as the train speeds by. I want to stand hot and sweaty in her kitchen while we dip peaches in hot water to prepare them for canning. I want to sit at the kids table during a huge family gathering… listening for her voice at the grown up table. I want her to tuck me in at night, with “sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” and have her kiss my cheek.
I want the strength, the security, the unconditional love that she gave so freely, so generously. I want to see her sit and talk with my girls, laughing and sharing stories. I want to see the pride and love in her eyes. I want her here with me.
My Grandma….my heart.