Dear Grandma,

In the mail last night from Mary I got an article that the girls had put in the paper about you. It was the poem you kept in your wallet:

And the mother said, "I have reached the end of my journey and now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them."

And the children said "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates."

And they stood and watched her as she walked on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said, "We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A mother like ours is more than a memory; she is a living presence."

...And so I stood at the kitchen counter and cried like it was the first time I realized you were gone. I got to thinking about how much I hate it still and how it's not fair that at 24 I am without grandparents, and how much it sucks not having you here. I'm sorry if that keeps me from getting banana bread, but it's true. I'm angry that people have to get sick, I hate that there is a such thing as cancer and that nearly every person I have lost in my life has fought that battle. People are suppose to die because they're old, warm in their bed. Which is exactly what happens to a lot of people who don't take care of their bodies, and their families and take every wonderful thing about life for granted. But the rare, wonderful people who take each day as a blessing die sitting in a hospital talking about cancer markers and tumors and chemo.

...and I'm sure after reading that paragraph you just say "Welllllll...."

I hope you know the difference you've made in my life and the millions of times I turn to you in a day without even realizing it. You've gotten me through a lot, probably more now than when you were around. I regret every second I ever took you for granted but I thank you for making me who I am.

I love you,
Kristen