How do I let you go?

I’m not sure how to let you go…  To know that you’re not a phone call away. I don’t know what it will be like to never hear your voice again. To not see your smiling face. You were an immediate family member… A second mother to me. There wasn’t a memory I experienced that didn’t involve you in my life.

You were a rock, solid as a tower.

You were strong, strong like a hurricane.

Life won’t be the same.

Saying goodbye will take time. Time I don’t want to manage. I don’t want to look back over past memories and be saddened, I want to relish in them. I want to peer into the past with fond memories of a fabulous, well-lived life.

A life full of love, laughter, and milestones.

Not an ending.

My grandmother was the matriarch of our family. She was a small, feisty Italian woman who would give Joe Pesci’s mom from Good Fellas a run for her money. I always make that joke because of the one scene where Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro showed up, unannounced, in the middle of the night and his mother cooked them a 4-course meal. That was my grandmother. If you were hungry, you ate –and you ate well. It didn’t matter the time or the day. The first Thanksgiving that my husband ever attended at her house threw him for a loop. He had already eaten with his father and when we arrived, she asked if he was hungry. He replied, “no”. Where she then said, “it’s alright, I’ll fix you a plate.” It was almost unthinkable to not eat during a meal.

She loved to entertain. Rain or shine she had a backyard full of people –laughing, sharing stories, and playing the guitar. There never had to be a reason for a cook-out, just a reason for friends to congregate. Family was everything. Dinners were spent around her dining room table and growing up, my brother and I spent so much time there -Playing dress up in Halloween clothes, riding our big wheels in her backyard that was paved for easy mobility, dancing late night in front of the TV, and playing in a kiddie pool on her kitchen floor during the winter months.

Holidays were always family-themed and they never missed one. Her husband, who passed in 2001, dressed up as Santa and delivered our presents. Birthday parties, Thanksgiving, Easter, you name it –they were there. Even when they lived out of town, they would make a special trip to our house for Christmas and stay a month. I was always uber excited waiting for their arrival.

My grandmother was the one who braved school shopping with me every year. She would patiently wait as the hours clicked by, while I tried on countless shoes and clothes. Then her and my grandfather waited with my parents on my front porch to see how my first day of school went.

She was there for me to cry on her shoulder during my teen years when my mom and I clashed.

She was there for my high school and college graduation.

She danced with me on my wedding day.

She cried from excitement the first time I told her I was pregnant with my daughter.

She was the epitome of what a grandmother should be. And even during these last years, we talked on the phone for hours. We talked about my kids and the good old days. I realize my busy life has kept me from visiting, but I’m so grateful that I have those late-night conversations. I will hold onto those with both fists clenched, never letting go.

I don’t want to ever let go. I want to imagine you walking through my door, with poppy in tow, kneeling down to flood my children with love. I want to picture you holding a pina colada and laughing about how you don’t drink. I want all of us gathered around a Christmas tree one more time.

I will hold onto these memories forever, because right now, that’s all I have.

And as I close my eyes, I’ll say goodbye.

Tears streaming…

My heart aching…

But not for forever.  

Because forever is too long.

But for right now, I’ll say, I miss you.

I love you…

And that love will be forever.

That love will help me heal.

These cherished memories will keep me going.

Because I’m not letting go… I’m holding on.