Dear Gram,

It’s been over a year now, and let me tell you, you have missed a lot. I’m writing this now because today, a woman approached me in the coffee shop who reminded me so, so much of you. She smiled at me as I sat, diligently doing my work, and told me that I reminded her of her granddaughter.

When she walked away, but not until she complained about her coffee just like you would have, I burst into tears. I know you hated it when I cried, but I really couldn’t help it this time. I’m sorry.

I got into the University of Michigan. My acceptance letter is hanging on your fridge, just like I promised you it would. It was one of the best days ever, and I wish more than anything that you would have been there to celebrate with me.

But, I went somewhere else. That decision wasn’t made without an abundance of breakdowns and second-guessing, both of which you would have been able to help me through. With that said, I’m happy where I am now. I would have loved to show you.

There was another boy after 'The One I Swore I’d Never Get Over,' the one you never met but hated anyway if only to make me feel better. The boy after him… Gram, you would have loved him.

He stood up and shook Grandpa’s hand when they met. He loved me unconditionally. He heard all the funny stories about you. The kids loved him, called him Uncle before they really knew who he was.

I know you would tell me that’s ridiculous, but secretly you’d find that endearing. You always thought the kids were a great judge of character, and this time was no different. I would have loved to run to you every time he made me mad, or call you every time something amazing happened.

I wish you could have met him.

Since you left us, I’ll buy a lottery ticket in your honor and scratch it off every once in awhile. I almost always lose, but it still makes me happy, because it makes me think of you.

Sometimes, I’ll go to McDonald's and order a “large, fresh, hot French fry” just to do it. And every time I’m at the store and see Fast Break bars, I have to buy them. Every single time.

You should know that Dad acts a lot like you. Maybe he always did, but it’s really noticeable now. Mom thanks you for that one, by the way. Are you doing that on purpose?

Holidays aren’t the same. That’s a given, but I thought I’d mention it. You’re missing, and your chair is empty. I think it hits every one of us when we look at the empty chair. At least, that’s when it hits me.

We wore your Christmas sweaters last Christmas to honor you, all of us grandkids, and it was the greatest thing, like, ever. The great-grandkids ran around the house like usual, but it was different because your laughter over it wasn’t heard in the background.

One last thing: Grandpa is doing as ok as Grandpa can do. He’s still really clumsy and gets into things a lot, but he’s doing ok. He misses you as much as the rest of us do. (But I miss you the most, of course.) I try to spend time with him, and he tells me a lot that I remind him of Alice Marie, just like you used to. I’d like to think that we’re pretty close now.

I miss you so much, and I think about you every single day. I love you more than words could ever begin to express.

With all the love in the world,

Matt