05/17/2026
This is my grandmother.
I miss her every single day.
She could cook, bake, hand quilt entire blankets by herself, and was honestly one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.
She was also incredibly stylish. Always had her hair dyed, never a gray hair showing, lipstick on, nails painted. She would never leave the house looking disheveled. Ever.
When I was younger she would edit my English papers with a red pen so aggressively that by the time I got them back there was barely anything left that wasn’t covered in red marks.
Which is funny because red ended up becoming my favorite color.
She used to tell me,
“If you actually applied yourself, I could see you becoming a writer one day.”
And honestly that never offended me. I was mostly just trying to pass English and get a decent grade.
She was tough. Not performative tough. Just genuinely sharp. Disciplined. Smart with words. Smart with people.
I think about her constantly. I talk to her all day long like she’s still here. Sometimes while driving. Sometimes cooking. Sometimes when I’m building something creative and wondering if she’d think it was brilliant or completely ridiculous.
Grief is strange because it doesn’t really leave. It just becomes part of your daily life.
There are still moments I think of her and instantly get teary-eyed.
I don’t know if that ever stops.
