A Letter to My Grandmother





Something they don’t say about grief

is how often it feels like longing.


I long for the chance to say goodbye,

to tell you what you mean to me,

to explain how much I miss you.


I long to show you how fare I’ve come;

how my daughter looks like me,

and my son reminds me of you.


I long for your guidance, your comfort, your wisdom.

I long to hear your stories,

to understand your truths.


I long for the moments, big and small;

to share what shapes a life.

I long to tell you

all the things my heart tries to hold.


I long to remember the sound of your laughter, the feel of your hugs.

I long to watch you get ready at your vanity one more time.

I long to hear you sing the hymns that spoke to your soul. 


I long for the times when you showed me

that imperfection is beautiful and grace is a gift.

I long to learn from your strength, hope, and humility. 


I long to know you,

one adult to another

in a way that I no longer can.

I long to share with you

stories of love and loss,

things that have made an impression or left a scar.


Most of all,

I long to tell you that you have love me enough for a thousand lifetimes,

and that I’m forever grateful.


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