A Letter to My Grandmother

On the anniversary of her death

A teenage portrait of my grandmother. (Author photo)

Dear Grandma,

Today marks the second anniversary of your passing. I can’t believe it’s been two years already. In some ways, it feels like it all happened yesterday. I still feel your absence every day.

I miss you.

Sometimes I’ll be minding my own business when a random memory strikes me out of the blue. I remember the way you used to laugh so hard you’d have trouble catching your breath. You’d start cackling, which in turn, would make the rest of us laugh even more.

I remember playing cards with you — you would always win, of course.

I remember the look you’d give me when I said something you disapproved of — I’d instantly know I was in trouble.

You were such a feisty woman. You stated your opinions without any fear of people’s reactions. You had a knack for telling it like it is. You loved your family fiercely, and you would have done anything to protect us.

You were the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I watched you battle through many trials, but you never gave up. Even at the end, you were at complete peace with yourself. I will always remember that. I hope to gain that kind of self-acceptance someday.

Over the years, you taught me numerous lessons, whether you were aware of it or not. You taught me to stand up for myself, no matter what other people think. You taught me to love with every piece of my heart. You taught me what it means to be strong in more ways than one. You taught me to live life loudly in the present and enjoy it to the fullest.

You taught me not to live with regrets.

I will never forget those final conversations we had. Your words struck me deeply. I’m happy we were able to fulfill your wish. I’m forever grateful we were able to spend so much time with you at the end. I hope our presence by your side gave you comfort. You brought all of us, as a family, closer together in those last few weeks. I bet you would be smiling about that development.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but this one still feels raw. It still hurts just as much today as it did when I got that final phone call two years ago. Yes, we knew it was coming, but there is no preparing for that kind of eventuality. We would never be prepared to lose you.

But I’m not going to dwell on the sadness. Instead, I’m going to remember your unbridled laughter. I’m going to remember all of the hugs and most especially the love. I’m going to picture you dancing on a cloud with your husband because it makes me smile to think that you are reunited now. That image gives me comfort.

I hope you can still hear me wherever you are.

I love you, Grandma. Now and for always.


This picture is the last one I took with my grandma. I will cherish it forever. (Author photo)

Written by

I am a 38 year old dreamer who is living with Scoliosis. I’m an avid reader and a total nerd at heart. I like to share my thoughts on things.

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