Gone but not forgotten 

Wednesday, December 19, 2018.

She just knew. She could tell when she woke up. A cold, rainy, dreary world outside her window. The type of day that is so foggy people can barely see to drive. She could feel the cold in her room. 

Her mother answered the phone, then broke down crying. Her grandmother had passed away. 

She had been in the hospital for a couple weeks. But she just thought she would recover like she always did. She always bounced back. She just did.

They had visited her in Missouri less than three weeks before. And they had been looking forward to seeing her during winter break. 

The mold, the glue, the person that held the family together was gone. And they couldn’t do anything to get her back. Her wisdom, her smile, her life—it was gone. She had grown up with her great-grandmother around her, her presence always in her life. When she was a child, she didn’t listen to the stories and experiences. The hardships her grandmother had endured. What she had learned in life. But now, looking back, she wished she had listened. 

Now she will never get to hear the stories from her again. The firsthand experiences are gone. Disappeared in a blink. Now, she celebrates her and her life. Cherishes the moments and memories she’s had with her. Remembers her witty remarks and her crazy stories. 

But sometimes she forgets. And when she picks up the phone to call her, she forgets. 

She reminiscences about the good times. And she isn’t going to forget those moments. She is grateful for the time she had with her. She got 14 years with her great grandmother, and she’s thankful.