Friday, April 18, 2008
Grandma, I miss you. I know you are still alive, but since you live in a nursing home now, it's hard to reach you. And since you can't hear well anymore it is hard to talk to you when I see you. You told your son/my uncle not to bother getting you a phone because you can't hear people when they call you anyway. Sigh. I remember when I used to call you so often I had your number memorized. I still have it memorized from so long ago. But you haven't had that house in many years. I think you sold it when I was 22 or 23 years old. Another lifetime, or two ago. You and my father had phone numbers that were very similar, only the last 2 digits were different, and sometimes I would call you by mistake, but I usually found something to say anyway. I miss you, and you aren't even dead. I try to write, but it's hard to find the time, and sometimes I don't have much to say. I just want to reach out to you and say something quick. I love you I'm thinking of you. My allergies are bothering me, but I am otherwise well. I wish I could call you to say I was coming for a visit. What day would be good? Instead I'll have to surprise you, and hope that my timing is okay. I hate "dropping in" like that, but I never know when I call the nursing home whether or not you are really getting the messages I leave anyway. I have some pictures for you. Will you have room for them? Should I put them in a photo album for you? Or frame them so you can hang them on the wall? I used to see you every week, but now there is so little to say, and so many other things to do that I don't visit as much. But I think of you every day. You'll be 90 in a few weeks. Amazing, but I miss you anyway. How old were you when we slid down the hill in the toboggan? How old were you when you washed my hair in the kitchen sink? Or read stories to me? I miss you Grandma. You used to be so great, and I know in my heart that you still are.