Thursday, June 27, 2019
Grandma, I still think about you often. You were always there for us when we needed a sitter and I remember you doing your best to teach me to do right (I was what you called a "wild child"). I still remember you calling me your "Little Romeo" and telling me I'd grow up to be a "lady's man". But mostly you always told me I'd make you proud. You believed in me.
Your death devastated me. I remember seeing you the night before you passed. You tried to talk to me but I couldn't make out what you were saying; all I could do was stand there and squeeze your hand. That was one of the most awful feelings I've ever felt. As a fifth grader, I couldn't possibly understand that it was better for you this way, that you didn't have to suffer anymore. All I could think about was how unfair it was that you were gone, taken from me.
It's been six years and all I can do is hope I make you proud. I'm in the Army now, something I always told you I would do. I'm not quite the "lady's man" you always said I would be but I try real hard to take care of the woman I love and her little boy. I haven't gone to school yet and maybe I never will. But I'm on my way to accomplishing my goals.
I still think about you all the time. It's often that I think, "I wish grandma were here to see me now." I remember telling Marissa how much I wish I could have introduced her to you. You would love her.
I just hope that someday when I have grandchildren I can be half the grandparent you were. I miss you.
