I'm not your granddaughter. Not by blood. I'm not biologically related to you in any way.
I only knew you for a little less than fifteen years. You didn't know everything about me and the truth is? You didn't much care. You knew your grandson loved me, and that was enough. You loved me too.
I loved you right back.
I loved you for so many reasons and some of them were probably selfish. You aren't my grandma, but you filled that role for me so many times. You were unabashedly proud of everything I did. You loved every single picture that I ever showed you, exclaiming over them and telling me every time how wonderful it all was. You were interested in everything I had to say. Even the stupid crap.
You made me feel like I belonged, even when no one else wanted me.
It's inadequate for me to say thank you, but it seems important that you know that I appreciated you. That it meant so much to me that you accepted me and loved me and I never, ever felt like I had to prove myself to you or to prove to you that I loved Jason. You just knew I did. You believed it. Because he loved me and that was enough.
A week has gone by and I still feel so sad. I am so, so sad that you are gone. I also feel guilty for all my failings. I feel guilty that because of me and my broken body you never got to hold that great-granddaughter who was to be your namesake. I know you would have been so overjoyed by all of that...so proud. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm so messed up. I wish it was different for all of us.
I feel comforted by the fact that you're probably holding her now. Even though I never got to. I feel comforted by the fact that you don't blame me or hate me, even though I don't show myself the same kindness.
So thank you.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for thinking I was good enough. Thank you for your part in raising my husband. Thank you for listening to my stories and thank you for telling me yours.
I have lamented before how an obituary is such a small little square to encompass the bigness that is life, but now I think that it might make sense. That if you believe Heaven is real, and I do, that the amount of time you get on Earth is very small in comparison to forever. I'm sure you did many, many things in your 92 years on Earth, but I believe Heaven is better than anything on Earth and it's comforting to me to think of you there. It's comforting to think of you with no pain or worries. It makes me happy to think about all the things you'll get to do and who you'll get to be.
I know your life on Earth wasn't easy. I know that my husband looks to you as one of the greatest role models of his life. I know that he adored you and his heart is broken. I know that you meant so, so very much to him and your love and guidance was hugely important in making him the man he is today.
I'm trying to focus on the happy for you, even though the sad is here for me and for everyone else who loved you. I don't want to be selfish.
I just miss you. And I loved you.
You mattered. I can't even tell you in words how much you mattered.