4/24/2014

Dear Grandma,

Today is the day. I have officially made it two whole years without you in my life. I miss you every single day of it. It kills me to hit milestones in my life and realize that I can't tell you about them.

I got into Concert Orchestra in youth symphony this year. You never did get to make it to that one last concert.

I finished my high school swim career. You never got to see me race.

I started senior year. You never saw me complete sophomore year.

I turned seventeen. You didn't make it to my sweet sixteenth.

We had another Thanksgiving...another Christmas...another New Years...and another Easter without you.

Everyday, it kills me. The other day, I found a tub of your old vanilla body lotion from Bath and Body Works. It reminded me of how you smelled. I must have sat there and cried for an hour. I can't look through old photo albums because I know I will see you in it, and remember how it was when you weren't sick. Momma and daddy hung the big family portrait of you and all twelve of your grandkids up a couple of months ago. Now whenever I go to my room - your old bedroom - I stop and look at it. If it is hanging crooked, I will always come over and fix it. Sometimes, when the others are out of the house, I will stand in that little hallway next to that picture for who knows how long, and just think about you and how much I love you. The Christmas after you died, uncle Charlie gave me a little note. It was a gift tag from a present given years before. It was something I had given you, and wasn't even in either or our handwrittings, but I have carried it with me in my wallet, everywhere I have gone for nearly two years now. It makes me feel a little bit stronger to have it with me.

There are always the little things that remind me of you. Going to the library is harder than it should be because I can still see the spots where you sat and helped me pick out books all those years ago. I can't pull out a baby doll or a toy stroller without thinking of the walks that we used to take together, me pushing my little toy stroller. No one in the family makes bread anymore. You were always the best at it, and no one has been able to think about making it instead of you doing it.

For a while, I used your last name. I missed you so much, that adding your married name to my last name made me feel closer to you. When people asked, I would just say it sounded official and different. I never actually admitted to anyone why I did that.

It is crazy sometimes how much I miss you. I miss going into your room and hiding in your closet. I miss you letting me mess around in your makeup. I miss looking out the window and seeing you stretched out on a lawn chair in the back yard, your book propped open on your chest. I miss seeing th bottles of blonde hair dye in the bathroom. I miss the sleepovers we used to have. I miss the matching Christmas pajama sets that you and all twelve grandkids would get. I even miss the fact that when you were getting sicker, you used to forget to close doors to the bathroom, or would leave the stove on for too long.

The other day, I realized that I walk a bit like you. Hands clasped behind my back, looking forward slightly at the ground. I have developed your reading habit. Even in the craziness of everyday life, I will still manage to fit in a few pages or chapters of a book here and there.

I miss the fluffy white bathrobe hugs you used to give me, and the citrus and vanilla lotions you used to wear. I miss your off key singing of church hymns throughout the house, and the fact that you used to take a pillow to church because your back would hurt against the stiff pews. I miss the giant Diet Pepsi's you used to get from the gas station, and the fact that you always had chocolate somewhere in the house.

I miss my grandma, my babysitter, by reading buddy, my swing pusher, my biggest supporter, my personal chef, my constant companion, and my best friend everyday. You were my second mother, and no one will ever be able to fill the gap you left in my life.

I know that you are happy wherever you are, and you are with your true love. I wish I had gotten to hold onto you longer, but I will see you again someday. You won't be sick anymore, your back won't hurt, and you will call me by my full name and hug me. Maybe it will even be one of your warm, white fluffy bathrobe hugs. But that doesn't really matter to me because I will get to see you again, and more importantly, you will remember who I am and how much you love me.

I love you grandma. To the moon and back, forever and always.

All of my love.

Your Grandaughter,

Lauren Pauline