Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

Whether you knew it or not, you changed my life in so many ways and made me the person I am today.

Throughout my childhood, you always called to chat, and I looked forward to your heartfelt birthday cards every year—I’ve kept them all.

I learned as much about you as I could during the twenty short years we knew each other: your love of pastel colours, your sharp wit, the way you could absolutely perfect anything you set your mind to. I always admired your bright optimism and the way you made everyone feel accepted and included. You had an absolute heart of gold.

The sheer energy you brought into every room you entered will be missed immensely, and I’ll never forget the excitement on your face when I shared something neat or the way your face lit up when we came to visit or surprised you with flowers.

To this day, whenever I see a salmon pink sweater or a bouquet of dahlias, I can’t help but blink back bittersweet tears.

Even small, seemingly ordinary things such as homegrown tomatoes and nanaimo bars, make me think of you. Dark chocolate, the type you used to buy at the co-op, will always taste different, and serve as a reminder of happier moments.

The song “Hallelujah” doesn’t sound the same now that you’re not here, and I don’t think it ever will. Its progression of chords in C major now sounds melancholy; unusually so for a major key signature.

The way you said “I love you, sweetheart,” even when it was difficult, made me cry then as it does now.

While you lived with us, we made so many new memories together and we tried to make up for lost time. They say that time is a precious commodity, and I have never felt that more than I do now. Life will never be the same without you and my heart aches to hear your voice again.  

Now, who will I ask for advice when a leaf on one of my many plants turns brown? Who will I tease a chuckle out of when I tell a corny joke?

I hang on to every piece of you, desperate to make sure the world does not forget you.

I’m scared of the shortcomings of the human mind and its memories: I don’t want to forget the way you smelled or what your voice sounded like.

I hope you know the difference you made in my life and how enriched every aspect of it was with you in it. It’s not fair that you had to leave so soon, but I know that someday I will see you again.

You were the kindest woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and I hope that one day I can be half as gracious as you.

I love you always,

Your granddaughter,

Mercy

• closure
• family
• healing
• letter
• memory