This time last year was the last family dinner we had with her. The last time I hugged her tightly and held her hand. That night she gave me what she called my ‘late’ birthday gift. Only late through her eyes as my birthday was in September, *she never missed anyone’s birthday*, but not a minute past when it should have been, seen through mine. She said, “It’s not much,” and I assured her she was silly, and that even the smallest things she’s given me mean the world. Her gifts were oven mitts, a crocheted dog she made, two tea towels with pictures of a sunflower and a hand written note. The note was addressed, “To You and Your Better Half”. Good one gran’ :). It explained how the tea towels and oven mitts were for our new home we just moved into that weekend, and how much luck and love she wished us. I had opened them with her hand in mine, hugged her as tight as I could, and said my thank you’s about a million times over. Her soft voice said, “I love you, Moll’, which I followed up with my ever popular, “I love you more.” We had our pumpkin pie and watched the last bit of Hocus Pocus. She went home for the evening, and left our home for the last time.
A year to the day later, I still haven’t used the hand towels, or the oven mitts, and don’t think I ever will. Those will stay as they are, kept with me a forever memory of the last and best moments I spent with my grandmother. We had a beautiful thanksgiving, but you were missing. You will stay an irreplaceable presence at our table, and on the couch afterwards, snuggling Tino and eating pie.
We miss you an insane amount Gram. We know you were there with us this weekend, and know you are having the best time with Grandpa in the stars.
With love to you always and forever,