A letter to my deceased grandmother for Mother’s Day
Dear Anne,
first of all I’m sorry I called you a grandmother, I know how much you hate that.
Second of all I miss you. You were such a spectacular and unique person. You had so much life and fire about you, even as your health got worse and worse. You were so beautiful no matter what your age, and you believed in everything you said. You were so strong even as you lost your muscles.
And you were brilliant. Even if you didn’t think so you really were.
Your personality all by itself was a spark that never died, and could never be recreated. I don’t think it’s possible that anyone else could be mistaken for you.
You weren’t perfect - no one is - but you got things right. At least with my mother, she turned out to be such an amazing and beautiful person and the best mother any girl could hope for. And she misses you too. So so much.
I’m sad that I never had a chance to sit down and talk to you about your life. The things you knew, the things you saw, that I could never possibly imagine. The world that you lived in that was so different from mine, even when it seemed to be the same one.
And I miss your condo. I have so many memories of your rooms, your kitchen, the pool outside, the people who lived there. At times it seemed just as much a home to me as my real homes are.
And Texas. I’ll keep going, but it’s not the same place without you there. Without that extra culture, without that extra love. Even if wasn’t born there, my Texan heritage means more to me that being born in Seattle. I’m not a true Texan, but at heart I know I am. I can’t imagine what my life would be like, what my philosophies would be like if I hadn’t spent so much time there.
Anne, you gave me so much. And I’m sorry that I could never give you that much back. But you were an amazing person. And even if I don’t believe in an afterlife, I hope yours is even more spectactular than your life was.
I miss you.
I still love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Love,
your granddaughter,
Julia
