Anyone watch NBC's This Is Us? If not, you will still understand the message.

This idea came to me while watching the last episode. Randall's birth father William asks if he can visit Randall's adopted father Jack's, resting place. William sits on the bench in front of where Jack's ashes were spread. William begins by thanking Jack for being the father he could've never been. So, maybe you don't have an adopted parent, but we can all relate to visiting someone's resting place. The first person that came to mind when watching This Is Us was my grandmother. So Grandma, if they have the internet in heaven I hope you can get your hands on this.

My sweet, analytical Grandmother,

It goes without saying, but I miss you. I miss you at every family gathering because no matter how joyful it is, there is still a void in all of our hearts wishing you were there. It's like the elephant in the room that everyone is scared to talk about. Your words were always well thought out and said at the perfect time. I've always admired your honesty when it felt more comfortable to beat around the bush. If I had to choose one trait that I wish would've inherited it would be your confidence. You were never scared to try something new or questioned what people thought of you. You had a silent confidence that was admirable rather than arrogant. I loved every spring break we were able to spend together visiting museums, aquariums, movies, nature centers, etc. Those are still my fondest memories. We were always trying something new. Most importantly, you wanted us to be educated and appreciative of the world around us. That came from the teacher side of you. I remember the way your face would light up when you began talking about your students. You cared so much about them as if they were your own kids. I hope you realize how big of an impact you made on Lindsey. Her passion for education is a compliment to you and your passion for teaching.

We all miss your cooking. Thanksgiving is always the hardest without you. Everything was always planned out before the day even came. And you always let us help whether it was with the food or making name tags for everyone. You always joked about the chocolate pie recipe being confidential until you passed. I never thought that day would come. We've tried to make the chocolate pie. It never tastes as good as yours. And not only is it hard making it, but eating it without you there feels wrong.

I remember that weekend. Grandpa drove from Sarasota to Naples alone to pick up our dog, Gus, while we were about to jump on a plane to Michigan for the weekend. You hated our dog, but still, you offered to take care of him. I can recall the weirdness that took place when Grandpa picked up Gus. He walked into our house by himself while you had a meeting in Sarasota. It was almost as if the Lord was informing me that this is the new normal. It felt different.

We got on the plane later that day and called you to make sure Gus was behaving himself. That night you went to the hospital. We thought nothing of it. Then on Sunday morning Grandpa called mom and told her there had been a complication following the surgery. There was something wrong and your heart became unresponsive. The doctors tried shocking your heart an abundance of times, but God had already given you angel wings. We were sitting at the foot of the bed in a cold, white-walled hotel room. Mom sat down on the chair while dad was holding her. Somehow mom managed to get words out in between her sobbing. We sat there holding each other as we tried to comprehend what was going on. I couldn't describe the feeling if I tried. But I know it. You were there. Sitting with us in the hotel room. You were there that entire day reminding us that you had completed everything on your path and God was ready for you. I know the Lord planned this with you in mind because it was a Sunday. You loved Sundays. You loved church. And more importantly, you loved going to church with family.

I remember your celebration of life. You hated the word "funeral". It was too harsh and depressing. Everything you weren't. You had the entire ceremony planned out before you passed. It was beautiful watching people try to put into words how you made them feel. No words could've explained your desire to better everything around you. I watched as your ashes were pushed into the columbarium. I couldn't comprehend it. I didn't feel you there.

I'm sorry I haven't visited you there in years. It's too hard. I feel your presence everywhere else. When I'm walking outside and a butterfly crosses my path, you are there. When we are praying before dinner I know you are sitting with us. I feel you when I'm stressed because you were always able to calm me down. You knew all my struggles and helped me every step of the way. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about you. Almost three years have gone by and it still feels empty. I know you are happy in heaven, but I wish I had one more chance to tell you how thankful I am. I wish you could give Grandpa one last hug because every time he talks about you the words are so sweet. We all miss you. You were our glue.

Thanks for continuing to watch over us. I hope everyone in heaven knows about your famous chocolate pie.