Hey, Gram

“Who are we after we’re gone?……We’re our children. Our grandchildren. Our great-grandchildren. We’re all the people who will go on to live, because we lived. We are our wisdom, our intellect, our beauty, filtered through generations, continuing to spill into the world and make a difference.”

I read this in a book recently and I thought of you. Truth be told, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Some days that’s good, other days not so much. And I don’t say that in a mean way. It’s just that some days I think of you and smile, remembering some good time we shared. And other days I cry, missing you so much it physically hurts. But when I read this, I thought of you in a good way.

We had a family wedding back in June and it was the first time most of us had seen each other in over a year, which is not normal for our family. So, when we saw each other there were tears of joy at finally being reunited. And over the course of the evening, I found myself looking, really looking, at my family. More so my aunts, your daughters, then my uncles. And everywhere I looked I saw you. In their smiles, in their mannerisms, in the shapes of their hands or the lines on their faces. In the way they spoke, in the way they laughed, even in the way they cried. You were everywhere. And it was proof that you are all around us, you are a part of every one of us. In your 11 children, in your 30+ grandchildren and your 20+ great-grandchildren. We are you. And as I realized this it brought me great comfort.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t think I would need or want to write to you again. I thought the last time I did I said all I needed to say, and some things I didn’t know I needed to say. But life is funny that way. Things happen, memories creep up on you, and you just want to call that person but you can’t. So, I write about it because if I don’t, it never leaves my mind. I wanted to write to you back in March but I kept putting it off and maybe that’s a good thing because now I had more to say then I did then.

Your anniversary was in March and I have to admit that I forgot. Weeks before I knew it was coming, probably even days before I remembered, but on that day, I just forgot, until I saw someone else mention it on social media, and then I felt so bad. I don’t want you to think I would ever forget you or an important day of yours. Back in March my mind was very scattered, as it has been for a while. Someone could have told me it was July and I might have believed them. Skylar was finally back to in person school and I felt a little lost. Like I couldn’t get a grip on things. One day turned into three and I felt like I was walking around in a fog. And March 3^rd came and I didn’t think twice. I didn’t even look at the calendar that day otherwise I would have been reminded. But I didn’t, and I wasn’t and I’m not looking to make excuses and to most people this wouldn’t even be a big deal, but I’m not most people and it has bothered me. So, I’m sorry, Gram. You probably don’t need to hear that but I need to say it.

A few weeks after your anniversary Pat’s aunt passed away. She was buried at the same cemetery you are in and whenever we go to the cemetery, we make our rounds. Sad to say but Pat has lost a lot of family in his life and they are all buried in Long Island so when we make the trip, we go to two cemeteries and visit ten graves. It’s draining when we do it, both physically and emotionally. And I know our family doesn’t really believe in cemetery visits but his does and so I’ve gotten used to it. So, we made stops by Grandma Cookie, Aunt Mary and then came to you and Grandpa. At first, I couldn’t find you. I had to search for a good 5-10 minutes, getting frustrated and angry at myself. Turns out we were just parked by the wrong tree and you were further away then we thought. Or maybe my mind was just giving me extra time because right before I found your spot, I realized your name would now be there, it wasn’t there the last time I had visited. And it hit me like a fierce punch to the gut.

Seeing your name on the headstone made everything so much more real. Not that I’ve been living in a fantasy world where you’re still here but to actually see your name there was a new level of reality. So of course, I cried because I needed to. And I flashed back to the day of your burial and how numb I felt through the whole ceremony. I remember walking away in a daze, tears clouding my vision, and Tiffer hugging me saying it was ok and that you were with Grandpa now. But that didn’t help because I wanted to be selfish and have you still here with us. I never told anyone this but as we drove away after everything, I looked in my rearview mirror and your coffin was just there, by itself, nothing or no one around it and I started to freak out in the car. I didn’t want to just leave you there; it didn’t feel right. It was the worst feeling in the world to think you were all alone and we just left you there by yourself. Pat had to calm me down and remind me that this is what always happens, we leave, and that you were ok and after a while I relaxed and came back to reality. But I still remember that day, still remember that horrible feeling inside of me. I can still see your coffin there and it’s still the saddest thing in the world.

The last time I wrote to you I told you all of the things I wish I had done with you or said to you. And while all of that is still true, I’ve come to realize that my biggest regret is not talking to you about being a mother. Yes, we talked about the little things like potty training, which was a nightmare for me. Your advice for that was always, ‘give it time, no one ever started school in diapers’, and you were right. Skylar did it in her own time, on her own terms. But I wish we would have talked about the bigger things, the important things. Gram, I swear I struggle so much sometimes. I feel like I’m failing at the one job I’ve been given. And I only have one child. I can’t imagine how you did it all and got through it all with eleven. I could say things were easier back then but that’s bullshit. Things for you were just as hard as they are now, just in a different way. My problems are no bigger than any you might have had. How did you get through it all? Did you ever struggle with anything? Did you ever doubt yourself? I think with eleven kids you didn’t have the time to dwell on nonsense. You didn’t have the time to worry about the little things when you had so many other things to do. Were you ever stressed, anxious or depressed? Just because they didn’t label things back then doesn’t mean they didn’t exist. There are so many times I wish I had your wisdom on things. If I knew then what I know now I would have talked to you so much more. I would’ve had the deep conversations that I long for now. I would’ve gotten the best advice from the greatest mom I know. And I know that would have made me better than what I am right now.

I can hear all of the stories in the world from your children, but I’d probably get eleven different versions of the same one. I wish I could hear them from you. I hope you had a great life, Gram. I hope you felt, deep in your soul, how loved you were by everyone, not just family, but everyone who ever knew you. I hope you know that you were an amazing wife to Grandpa, an amazing mother to all of your children, and the absolute best grandma and great-grandma to all of us. I hope you had your dreams come true. I hope your life was everything you wanted it to be and so much more than you ever thought possible. I hope you are happy wherever you are right now. So long for now, Gram. Love ya, babe!