I’ll Miss You

I’m writing this with a heavy heart because of the loss of my Grandma. I want to write her a letter to tell her what she means to me, yet as I contemplate what exactly I want to say, I know I have already said it to her. I said it to her as she sat beside me giving love as only a Grandma can.
There are very few people in my life that know everything there is to know about me. The good, bad and in between. She was one of those people, and she knew that. I can’t count the hours I spent with her these last few years. She was there for me in a way no one else could be when we watched my father battle cancer. Grandma would sit and listen to all my fears, to all my doubts, and she made me feel I wasn’t alone. She supported me while we lost my Dad, always more worried about me than herself. I am glad I got the opportunity to tell her how much she meant to me. I love that in her own way she could make this 39 year old woman feel like a little girl again. Her love did that for me.
We would sit for hours and tell stories to each other. I never was afraid to tell her anything. She never judged me, ever! I knew no matter the choices I made in life, I was just as special to her as when I was born. She called me Papoose. I looked like a papoose when I was born. Today I am nearing 40 years old, and she never called me anything different. I worry I will never have that referred to me again.
Grandma was great with the nicknames. Nearly everyone in the family had one. That was Grandma, she had a special name for everyone and once she called you that, everyone did. Not everyone was as lucky as me. Sometimes if someone did something very hurtful to her or someone else in the family, she called you by your real name. You knew you were in trouble then.
In many ways I am a lot like my Grandma. I take responsibility for my actions and words. I’m not always right, but I will own up to that when it happens. I think one reason that I was treated so special is because I reminder her of herself. Definitely able to screw up, but will be the first to admit it. If I’ve done something wrong and you ask me, I’ll tell you. I treated her that way and that is the way she treated me. I have such great respect for her because of it.
There were times that my life seemed so busy that months would go by and I would realize I hadn’t stopped by to see her. Looking back, how busy is so busy? It is a regret I will carry with me. And even when those times came about, when she saw me, she made me smile. Usually because she was feeling my fingers to be sure they weren’t broken. I could have called. She would smile at me and hug me. All was forgiven.
So now I know there will be no more visits to her house, no more hugs, no more of her funny little sayings (that I wish I could replicate, but can’t), no more of her making me laugh so hard I cried. On Saturday, I tried giving back to her all that she had given to me. I only had the fewest of moments to do it. I was the one with her as she took her last breaths. I held her hand and reassured her that it would be all right. There was a feeling deep in my chest, a mixture of fear and hurt. I swallowed hard and told her to relax and that I loved her. I know my Dad was there on the other side waiting for her. She often said it was one of the things she looked forward to. She had a lot to tell him and she knew my Dad would have a stool ready for her at the end of the bar. I know I too will see them both again, but it does not lessen the pain of how much I miss them already.
Grandma Junette wasn’t your ‘ every-day Grandma’. She didn’t sit at home baking cookies and pies. She didn’t read story books. She was unique. She was honest, sometimes too much. She loved the jokes you shouldn’t tell in mixed company. She had the same sense of humor we all have in our family and she loved the look on your face when she said something that you may expect a sailor to say. She was her. Like it or not. A no nonsense woman.
It’s been a tough couple of days. Each day seems worse to me. I’m mentally drained. When I try and occupy my brain with something else, I’m afraid it lasts only momentarily. Then I find myself crying again. I forced myself to sit here and write this. The wake is tomorrow, the funeral, Wednesday. I wanted to get my thoughts down on paper, so to speak. Maybe somewhere in here I was going to find the letter that I was going to put in the casket with my Grandma. But I don’t find anything in my post that can express all that she was to me. Just words really. I am thankful, I was with her in the end. If there was one thing I could do for her, helping her let go and cross over was the biggest gift I could realistically give her. I will forever hold dear all the memories she created for me in my life. I will share with my kids what she taught me. She was one of the few in my life that I could be around and just be ME. Accepted, loved, treasured…all wrapped up in a hug.

I love you Grandma.

Thanks for all the love,



~ by mamadubs on February 12, 2007.

3 Responses to “I’ll Miss You”

  1. What a moving, beautiful tribute to your Grandma. Grandparents are so special, and it is clear that your relationship with your Grandma has impacted your life… and will continue to do so!

    I am so sorry for your loss.

  2. I found your site through comments we’ve both left at doggy mama’s. It is very special that you would share some of the specialness of your relationship with us. It reminds me of my own Grandma’s death a few years ago and how much of her had become a part of me. What blessings we get from them!

    I know she will live through you. I wish you peace through the grieving process and the support of many, as we all share sorrow for your loss.

  3. I just read the entry about your Grandmother, “I’ll Miss You”. A truly beautiful sentiment.
    I know she would be as deeply touch as I was reading it.
    The most any of us can ever hope for is to be as deeply loved as she was. That to me, it’s the truest of definition defining what it really means to be “RICH”.
    For her to have the privilege of touching so many lives, and to be remembered in such a wonderful way. That is the ultimate achievement in life.
    Your dear Grandmother achieved a greatness that not many of us even come close to.
    Her memory will live on, locked safely inside the hearts of everyone who loved her.
    I know she is looking down on all of you, feeling a deep sense of pride.

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