Dear Loved One,
First, let me tell you a tale from my view leading up to the day of your death.
The last time I’ve ever saw you was on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The visit was saddening because somehow I was already getting a hint that it was almost time for you to go. A silent tear on your face was a hint for me to accept that you were thinking of your parents and your brothers, who are in heaven waiting for the moment you arrive. You’ve had been a fighter for so long, and lasted longer than everyone initially thought, no matter how many emails and reminders were exchanged to see you or to call you.
Monday night was a night of regret for me because I couldn’t see you one last time. Later that night, I received news that it could happen any day now; little did we know how you would already be gone the next morning. Tuesday morning, I wake up fine and ready to go in time, not fully prepared for the news that was about to hit me like a truck. As I am nearing college, I find out the news that you were gone, and I am already sobbing; my thought was no longer on going to class, I wanted to go home. I spent the day at college, until the bus came to pick me up, but I cried in the bathroom all day long. On the morning of every anniversary of your passing day, if I am on the bus, I will remember how heartbreaking it was to get the news.
Saturday afternoon, I cried again seeing you in the casket in the new dress my mother had bought for you. Going through four rounds of wakes all weekend was not easy, but at least I had my family to grieve with, and I saw countless photos of you. Sunday night, I thanked you for opening your home to my family after our house got damaged from hurricane Sandy. I wish I could remember what else I wrote, but my speech is in the casket where you are buried. Monday morning, I had to be calm to do my reading at the funeral mass; I picked 2 Corinthians 4:14-5:1 because the words reminded me of you. It was hard saying my last goodbye before the casket closed and before it was buried into the ground.
Second, let me share what I remember of our memories and how often I think of you.
One year later, I still think of you today. I still have the prayer I read at the mass pinned up on my bulletin board and it never came down. I still have the card from the wake, and the words ring true because it’s something you would have chosen. I have photos of you and I, either in a frame or waiting in a drawer of my desk to be framed. I’ve thought of you as I consumed the salami of the month from May until December that my cousins gave you as one of your last Christmas presents. I always think of you whenever I have bagel and lox, or antipasto, because I remember enjoying them with you when nobody was eating them. I’ve been craving your cheesecake ever since you passed, and I miss the chicken cutlet parmesan you used to always cook for me. I remember you coming to my class in second or third grade and you taught us how to make homemade spaghetti.
There are days when I still do cry while thinking of you. I may not have all of the same memories that anyone else has, but I was fortunate to have you as someone who cared so much for the majority of my life. It is going to be weird graduating college, having a wedding, celebrating birthdays and holidays, and celebrating accomplishments without you being around, but I know that you are always there. We may not see anything, but we can always feel it wherever we are. New traditions are created to honor all the memories our large family have, and I am glad. On a happy note, your death taught me never to take family for granted, and that is something I am learning everyday.
I love you, and I miss you so much. If heaven has visiting hours, I would spend all the free time I have just to be with you.
Until we meet again,
Your granddaughter.
