Hi Mom,
Today is the first birthday in which you are not with us. A year ago, you weren't with us either, lying in your hospice's bed, but I could still hold your hand. Today, I turn to pictures and the memories those invoke, and to the voicemail message Dad will not change, to remember what it was like to have you here - in the flesh. Big smile, twinkling eyes, and a relentless sense of humor.
I can't tell you how much you are missed.
Today I will make Rice Crispy Treats (your favorite!) with the kids, and share stories of how much you loved them. And I'll show them pictures of you as we talk about "Grandma Dottie." Jack will see me cry and ask me why I'm sad, and I'll tell him: "I miss my Mommy."
This is what grieves me most. That my children are too young to carry memories of you in their hearts. You were such a good Grandma. So excited to send care packages of clothes and toys, to hold snoozing babies, and to share pictures of them to anyone who would look, so that you could ooh and ahh as the proud Grandma that you were.
The other day I pulled out a package of socks that you had found on clearance and sent in a care package for Claire. I imagined you finding them and putting them in your cart. You wrapping them up in a shoebox, writing a note, and getting it to the post office . . and I was overwhelmed with grief. To hold these tiny socks that you once held with love. Who knew socks could trigger so much?!
I do think the world lost something good and noble in your passing (and we really need good and noble right now). But I will do my best to carry your generosity forward, to see the humor in difficult situations, and to realize that our time here is so brief. Best to spend it on work that is meaningful . . .on adventures . . .on time with family and friends - where laughter is plentiful, games are played, and the weight of this world doesn't feel so heavy.
I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday.
