It seems to be one of the consistent things in my life. Loss, of loved ones.
People who had an amazing impact on me and made my life better in one way or another. People who helped to make me who I have become. Neighbors, friends and family.
The first loss that I remember was my Grandmother.
I remember you vaguely, Grandma. I was so young when you left. Your smile and your squeezing me tightly I remember. Your skinny arms wrapping around me and your boney shoulder that my head laid upon. I know that you loved me. I know that I mattered to you. I wish that I had more of you. More time with you. More memories of being in your presence.
I want to know you more. I have your hand written recipes. I use them. I like them a lot. It would have been great to taste them as you had made them. Did you use a pinch more or less of the seasoning? I remember you in the kitchen. I think I may have "helped" you in there a time or two.
I learned from you, that anyone can be gone far too soon. I promise that lesson taught me to try to say things every day. My children have known, every night, every phone call that I love them. I learned from your quickly leaving that I need to be aware of the fragile nature of this life. Thank you for that.
I love and have missed you. I wish I knew you more....your secrets, your knowledge, what made you....you.