Dear Grandma,
This morning, you returned to our Father.
To your husband.
To your parents and siblings.
My mom, your oldest daughter, called me to tell me.
I was grateful that she called me, rather than hearing it from my kids.
Our relationship was never ideal.
But I idolized you.
You were the party planner extraordinaire.
You were the county socialite who knew everyone, and everyone knew you.
You were the costume designer, the set decorator, the dance choreographer, the soprano in every choir.
You supported Grandpa in all of his travels around the world, and welcomed people from all countries into your home.
Your cooking and baking was renowned.
Your interior design work was stunning.
You sewed our clothes.
You never had a hair out of place.
You designed and built your own homes.
Your home was always cleaned and organized.
There was always ice cream in one of the three freezers in the pantry room.
We would eat them out of the old, wooden bowls.
Somehow the bowls made the ice cream taste better.
You loved to read.
You loved to host.
You loved to watch musicals.
You loved to spend time with your siblings.
You loved California.
Your meals were exquisite.
Your outfits were stunning.
I wanted to make you proud.
I longed to make you proud.
I wanted to be just like you.
I never lived up to that.
Yesterday, I took a walk alone.
During the walk, I talked to you out loud.
Not to you actually, but sort of a letter to you.
Grandma,
I love you.
I am so sorry for my bad choices.
I am sorry that you were embarrassed by me.
I forgive me and I forgive you.
At nine years old, you found your mom dead from suicide.
You had twelve siblings.
I can't imagine the scars you lived with from that point on.
I want you to know that I was proud of you.
I love you.
Heidi
