4 Words Of Wisdom My Grandma Left With Me

4 Words Of Wisdom My Grandma Left With Me

I miss you, think about you, and wish that you could be apart of my now.

To my dearest grandma who would be so proud,

I miss you, think about you, and wish that you could be apart of my now. It is hard knowing that I spent my childhood thinking you would never go away. As a little girl, I thought of you as a best friend and an everlasting companion.

My life has changed a lot since you have left and I wish every day that you could be in the present with me, be a call away, and have the wise tale advice you use to give so carelessly.

I have advice that I carry within my heart each and every day thanks to you:

1. "Come while the moon is shining bright"

You always taught me to live each moment to the fullest. Having fun and living stress-free is actually a key to life happiness. This quote means to share your love with anyone who is willing to receive it any time of the day, night and our lives.

2. Be smart

A smart woman can accomplish anything. I felt you always knew that I was going to find my own path to secure happiness. You always pushed and encouraged me to be smart, thoughtful and make careful decisions to show the world what I am truly capable of.

3. The countryside is where your heart lies

"Less is more," she used to always say. I would sit at the table with my grandma and share my dreams of one day living in a huge city where hundreds of lights and busy people surrounded me. She knew that was what I wanted but continued to show me the importance of keeping home close to my heart. As she was from the country, for the rest of my life I will appreciate canned-jelly and a big open field.

4. Love is important

From your past, you have instilled in my head and heart that I am meant to be loved and not by any love. The way you loved me was simple, genuine, and carefree. You taught me to love in the same way. Because of you, I know that I am supposed to be loved for the rest of my life with a kind heart, good soul and a person that will stand by my side forever and always. A simple love is what I am looking for, thanks to you.

You have taught me some of the greatest lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Since you have been gone, I am proud to tell you that I have grown into a confident woman who isn't scared to take this life on and live each and every moment to my fullest capability.

I wish I could tell you about college, but I feel as you already know. There have been times in the craziness of life when I have felt a sense of relief and know everything will be okay. I think you might be out there.

Grandma, I know I am becoming the woman you have always wanted to see me become. I am living each day to the fullest, taking in this worlds beauty and keeping you in my mind and heart. Thank you for opening my eyes before you had to leave me. You will continue to be in my prayers.

Cover Image Credit: unsplash.com

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I'm The Girl Without A 'Friend Group'

And here's why I'm OK with it


Little things remind me all the time.

For example, I'll be sitting in the lounge with the people on my floor, just talking about how everyone's days went. Someone will turn to someone else and ask something along the lines of, "When are we going to so-and-so's place tonight?" Sometimes it'll even be, "Are you ready to go to so-and-so's place now? Okay, we'll see you later, Taylor!"

It's little things like that, little things that remind me I don't have a "friend group." And it's been like that forever. I don't have the same people to keep me company 24 hours of the day, the same people to do absolutely everything with, and the same people to cling to like glue. I don't have a whole cast of characters to entertain me and care for me and support me. Sometimes, especially when it feels obvious to me, not having a "friend group" makes me feel like a waste of space. If I don't have more friends than I can count, what's the point in trying to make friends at all?

I can tell you that there is a point. As a matter of fact, just because I don't have a close-knit clique doesn't mean I don't have any friends. The friends I have come from all different walks of life, some are from my town back home and some are from across the country. I've known some of my friends for years, and others I've only known for a few months. It doesn't really matter where they come from, though. What matters is that the friends I have all entertain me, care for me, and support me. Just because I'm not in that "friend group" with all of them together doesn't mean that we can't be friends to each other.

Still, I hate avoiding sticking myself in a box, and I'm not afraid to seek out friendships. I've noticed that a lot of the people I see who consider themselves to be in a "friend group" don't really venture outside the pack very often. I've never had a pack to venture outside of, so I don't mind reaching out to new people whenever.

I'm not going to lie, when I hear people talking about all the fun they're going to have with their "friend group" over the weekend, part of me wishes I could be included in something like that. I do sometimes want to have the personality type that allows me to mesh perfectly into a clique. I couldn't tell you what it is about me, but there is some part of me that just happens to function better one-on-one with people.

I hated it all my life up until very recently, and that's because I've finally learned that not having a "friend group" is never going to be the same as not having friends.

SEE ALSO: To The Girls Who Float Between Friend Groups

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Kit Kat On A Rainy Day

My grandpa went missing one rainy afternoon, but what happened later is very heartwarming!


It was a rainy afternoon in the middle of October. The road was covered in an almost invisible film of water, and mud seeped through the cracks of the sidewalk. The wind blew at a harsh and firm angle. The temperature was sharp and bitter. I was in 10th grade at the time and had just gotten back to school. I sat at my desk upstairs with my legs comfortably nuzzled against my chest. I admired the lavender fuzzy socks on my feet while very blatantly ignoring my homework and other responsibilities. I gently sipped warm apple cider, carefully making sure that it wouldn't burn my tongue whilst scrolling through my phone. This rainy afternoon in the middle of October was seemingly very normal.

I eventually picked up a pencil and reluctantly began my homework, but was very quickly distracted by the sounds of panicked yelling coming from downstairs. I quickly made my way to the scene so that I could figure out what was going on. My mom and grandma were in the kitchen crying and screaming. My grandma sounded agitated and afraid. My mom was barely able to make out coherent sentences as she scrambled to find my dad's contact in her phone. I shuddered and felt completely frozen when I was finally able to understand what was going on.

My 85-year-old grandpa who also has Alzheimer's was missing from our home. My stream of consciousness was abruptly interrupted as I heard the door leading to our garage slam shut. My mom was going to drive around our neighborhood to look for my grandpa, as he realistically could not have made it that far. I went back upstairs and sunk into my chair. My eyes were wide and I could hear my heart beating outside of my chest. I trembled and cried. These are the kinds of horrible and unfortunate stories that you read about or watch in the news. You never expect it to happen to a loved one. The gravity of the situation is heavy. It's a very obscure and different kind of pain, one that cannot be justified with words.

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. I was not aware of how much time had passed, but I do remember hearing the slow creak of the garage open. I did not get up and I did not run down the stairs. Instead, I sat there. I sat firmly in my chair, numb and completely frozen. From where I was, everything was temporarily easier. The pain of sitting at my desk was less scathing than confronting whatever was waiting downstairs. And then, all of a sudden, I heard very slow and uneven steps coming up the stairs, accompanied by heavy breathing. It was my grandpa.

There he was, standing about three feet in front of me. I examined him, head-to-toe. He was soaked and there were remnants of mud on his pants and shoes. His glasses were covered in intricate droplets of water, and his light grey hair was disheveled. But that is not what stood out to me. What made me want to cry even more was the smile on his face that was beaming with love, as his eyes met mine. He steadily walked towards me, put his hand in his pocket, and I watched his fragile hands shake as he pulled out a Kit Kat bar.

"For you!" He said with a little laugh.

- - -

My mom had found my grandpa in a Walgreens right outside our neighborhood. To this day I still don't know how he got there, and I do not care to know the exact fundamentals of how he got from point A to point B. This is a man whose life and memories have been unfairly taken from him. This is a man who can barely make out a sentence in either Hindi or English. This is a man who, to this very day, cannot remember my name or who I am. However, what this disease has failed to do is strip him of his innate kindness. His mind might be impaired but his ability to love is immortal and unbreakable.

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