A letter to my grammie that I wrote a day too late.
A letter to my grammie that I never got to read her…
Grammie,
I remember the first time I realized how big my love for you was. I was 10, and I was hot on your heels in the kitchen and you turned to me and said, “Chels, I am going to trip over you if you keep following me everywhere.” As I laughed, I realized I was doing because one of the safest places in my entire life was being close to the heels of you. I remember papa putting me to bed in my bedroom at your house, but I always came out. I always came out because I knew if I talked at you long enough through the vent, you would eventually come up and read me another bedtime story. I don’t know anyone who does the voices and characters like you.
When I was a teenager, you held me close during heartbreaks and opened your door to me no matter how reckless or hardheaded I was being. My room at my grammie and papas was always open. As I became a young adult, I treasured you more than ever as I remembered our moments with the snapdragons in the backyard, our lunch breaks at your desk at Northview, and your precious cards and thoughtful gifts no matter how tight money was.
Around 5 years ago, when you got diagnosed with cancer, was the first time I had to begin to wonder what would happen to me, if something happened to you. I immediately got into therapy, LOL, but truly… I couldn’t even imagine it. Mom would try and tell me that you wouldn’t live forever, and I probably did need to start trying to think about the possibility that you wouldn’t make it, but I just couldn’t.
Over this last year and a half (after you already beat cancer) I sat in the ICU more times than I can count begging God to give me more moments because I just cannot do this life without you. I realize now my prayers were so selfish because you were in so much pain. I want you to know I never meant to keep you here in such struggle, but my heart feels unexplainably empty without you here. I would do anything for you, truly. I would have done anything to change the circumstances or to bring you back. I would do anything to be able to read this letter to your face while you told me to, “knock it off” because you hated these types of conversations.
So, let me make a few promises that I intended to pinky with you when we had the chance…
Grammie, I promise to be a better homemaker. I cannot even list the number of times you wanted me to cook more and I was too busy. I am so sorry we didn’t end up side by side in the kitchen for all the recipes we bookmarked on Facebook together. I also promise to be a mom that paid attention like you did. I promise to give gifts that required listening, write cards that make others cry, and try not to miss the games, class parties, or lunch break moments. I promise to donate to the humane society, check up on Gracie, and get the family together (no matter who voted for Trump- I swear)! I promise to wear my hair down more, take trips to the beach more, get back to Mackinaw Island and stand right under the arch holding your photo in my arms. I promise to live the rest of my life as a person with integrity, honesty, and good character because it is what you taught and modeled to me. I promise to treat others with an unremarkable kindness (until the food ends up coming out cold), and I promise to tell Rory every single day (when I am strong enough to talk about it) about the beauty, grace, and wonder that was her Gigi.
Grammie…
I hope there is a way my words fall right from my gut wrenching sobs, to your incredible, fully healed body.
I love you more than any drop of water in the ocean, and to the moon… and back. Until we dance together again…
I will be missing you more than any words could capture.
With the most broken heart I have ever had,
Love,
Your girl,
Little nutbrown hair,
Chels.
LifeintheMargins 