Let Me Count the Ways...

So, I'm sitting here in my spot downtown. I've realized today that it is not only my spot, there are regulars that come here. I am starting to recognize the faces by the fountains.

Two of these regulars are an elderly woman and a young girl. I like to assume they are grandmother and grandchild.

I have to say, every time I look at them, my heart kind of cracks, with a sense of oh my god, how do I still miss her so much, even after this much time has past?

Every time something good happens to me, I miss her, because I want to share it with her. Every time something bad happens, I want her to be there to say, "it's okay" and then braid my hair.

Her, my grandmother. The lady I will never until my dying day stop missing and admiring.

I guess that is a testament to what kind of lady she was. Beautiful, sassy, intelligent, tough, independent, patient, impatient, funny, loving, giving, classy..I could go on and on. I loved (love) her for being all those things. I miss her for the same reason.

I know, I know, that not everybody gets a grandma like I had. I was oh so lucky. If I turn into half the woman she was, I'll consider myself pretty blessed.

I really wish she knew me now. I really, really do. I wish she could have met the newest members of our family. She would have been so joyful about the whole thing.

Other family members have died, but none have left the ever present (at least somewhere in the back of my mind), gut wrenching, my heart hurts, kind of miss I still feel when I think about her.

It's a testament, I know it's a testament.

God, what a lady she was. My grandma.

But when I see other granddaughters and grandmothers, the ones I know are friends and have that special kind of relationship, I can't help but wallow, just a little bit.

I miss her, I miss her, oh my god, I miss her.