September 2021.
Dear Granddad:
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This week, I had my students write letters to their loved ones. And in reading their letters to grandparents, parents, siblings, and teachers, I realized how much I miss you. Things have changed a lot since you left us in December of 2019. I finished that Masters degree just a week or two after you passed. The last time I saw you, you told me you were proud of me, and I told you I’d bring you a video of me walking the stage to accept my degree. I like to think that you got to see it in real time instead of a recording. And I like to think you were cheering me on. Now I’m teaching and working on my PhD—in fact, I’m almost done with that degree too. |
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In the time you’ve been gone, one other major thing happened:
I got a boyfriend. And then that boyfriend got down on one knee on Thanksgiving 2020, and asked me to become his wife. I said yes. |
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Granddad, I got married.
My dress was beautiful. The venue was gorgeous. We exchanged vows and rings and he kissed me—the bride. And you weren’t there.
At least, you weren’t sitting there, next to Meme, right where you belong. But I felt you with me. I even mentioned you in my vows—referred to you as “my sweet granddad.” And you were. My Sweet, Sweet Granddad. I wish you could have met my husband. He is a wonderful, kind, generous man. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of you: he has such a big heart, and cares so deeply for others. He does little things like leave me little notes and takes me shopping like you did for Meme. I think that you would have really loved him. |
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We have a house now. We’ve made it into a beautiful home. I wish you could see it. I know you would hate that we have a dog living in the house with us—you always said dogs belong outside—but I think that you would love our home. You—your spirit, your memories, your things—are all in it. I have your old piano and that purple Canyon Eagles blanket you loved. In my closet, there’s an old pair of your shoes—brown penny loafers that were well-worn—and a baseball cap you used to wear. Your pictures are hanging on our fridge. I miss you so much.
Grief is funny, you know? Sometimes, I see your picture or I talk about you and smile and laugh. And then sometimes, I miss you so much it really hurts. It’s been almost two years, and I still want to cry sometimes, especially around the holidays. Holidays were your favorite—you loved Thanksgiving food and Christmas time so much. It’s around that time of year that I realize how much I miss you. I miss your red sweater. I miss you sitting in that maroon chair, falling asleep sitting up. I miss you drinking out of that Dallas Cowboys cup you always had. I miss you so much.
I know that you are in a much better place. I know you aren’t in all that pain you were in anymore. I know you can breathe freely and walk again and eat whatever you want. I know you are with your family—your parents, your siblings, your
friends—who went on before you. And I know you are with Jesus, loving Him there just as much as you did down here (maybe even more).
Grief is funny, you know? Sometimes, I see your picture or I talk about you and smile and laugh. And then sometimes, I miss you so much it really hurts. It’s been almost two years, and I still want to cry sometimes, especially around the holidays. Holidays were your favorite—you loved Thanksgiving food and Christmas time so much. It’s around that time of year that I realize how much I miss you. I miss your red sweater. I miss you sitting in that maroon chair, falling asleep sitting up. I miss you drinking out of that Dallas Cowboys cup you always had. I miss you so much.
I know that you are in a much better place. I know you aren’t in all that pain you were in anymore. I know you can breathe freely and walk again and eat whatever you want. I know you are with your family—your parents, your siblings, your
friends—who went on before you. And I know you are with Jesus, loving Him there just as much as you did down here (maybe even more).
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One more thing: I got a tattoo the day after I walked the stage for my Masters.I know, I know. You hate tattoos. But I think this one, you might let slide. It’s from a card you wrote me when I graduated high school, and it simply says, “I am so proud of you. Follow your dreams. Love, Granddad.” It’s in your handwriting, too. It makes me feel like a little piece of you is always with me. You are always with me. In my heart and mind.
I love you. I miss you. I'll see you again someday. —Love,
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P.S. I never said it, but I always kind of hated that nickname you gave me. I don’t know what I wouldn’t give to hear you say it one last time.
