Hi grandma, 

It’s been a while since I’ve heard your soft voice. I miss you so much, I wish I could tell you that. When you died, I had this sickness in my stomach, this inexplicable pain that made my belly hurt for hours and I had no clue why. That morning I woke up, it was just another mundane day of having to slap my alarm silent, and roll out of bed. Normally I would quickly get dressed and get my little one off to school. But that particular morning I didn’t feel well, I just felt overwhelmed with a heavy weight and dull pain in my stomach. I laid there in bed for a little while and decided that I didn’t feel good enough to drive so I asked Jason to do it for me. He never took her to school in the morning. I was always the one to drive her because her school was about 30 minutes away from home and he worked in the opposite direction.

I suppose he knew that I didn’t feel well because I never asked him to take our daughter to school. After I kissed them both goodbye and turned over in the sheets, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep. My day wasn’t interesting in any way, shape or form. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. I managed to get some light housework, and dishes done, but then I eventually had to pick her up from school. My stomach felt like it was being tossed in circles but I ignored it and went about my day. At the grocery store I decided to grab those Italian sausages, yanno the ones that you and uncle Randy showed me how to cook and put in the spaghetti sauce? I brought home “all the fixin’s” like you used to say, to make spaghetti for dinner that night. We had the boys over that night, everyone was playing video games, and hanging out, while I stirred the sauce over the stove. 

When Patty called me, I could tell within seconds that something was wrong because he asked me to sit down, and people NEVER ask you to sit down. It’s like the kind of shit you see on tv, “Have a seat, we have some bad news.” and they always say that shit right before breaking your soul. I refused to sit, because somehow NOT sitting meant I wasn’t going to get any bad news right? 

“Are you sitting?” he asked. 

“YES, what is it?” I told him feverishly while leaving the pot to boil and walking towards my garage. My body was stiff as I waited for him to respond.

“Grandma passed away this morning,” he told me. I didn’t say anything.

After a moment of silence he continued to tell me that he had been at your house all day and had been making arrangements with uncle Randy. He wanted to tell me sooner, but he was just so busy and had work that day too. I didn’t know how to feel, but at some point during the conversation something clicked inside me. All day, I had felt unwell, and now I knew why. Because you left me. You left me alone here Grandma without a mom, without a friend. You were the only mom I ever knew, and suddenly my world felt emptier. Your soul must have attached to me like a sickness because I felt you pass away. I knew in my bones that you died, but at the time it didn’t make sense. I didn’t know that you could feel someone pass away until that phone conversation with my estranged brother. He told me you left peacefully in your sleep that morning. I wonder if we were dreaming at the same time.

You’ll be proud of me grandma. I’m still here, and even though I’m struggling, I’m doing it in a better way this time. I’m making candles to help me through this depression. To help me cope with my day. At first I started making them because I was looking for some kind of motivation to make existing without you easier. Work was hard, so I quit. Friends were exhausting, so I pushed them all away. Life was dull, and therapy just wasn’t working so I wanted to try something new and candles just fell into my lap by chance. Maybe I’ll tell you about it one day. 

For now, I just wanted you to know that I’m okay, and I’m getting by. I think I’ve been grieving you for years without knowing it. I guess I shut off my emotions for a while because some things are too painful to deal with. I’m not ready for you to be gone, so can we just pretend that I’m just writing you a letter? Do you even get letters in heaven? 

I haven’t really written anything since you left, I’ve avoided this blog like the plague, and then crazy enough, a real life plague kind of happened. I guess it was a good excuse to make excuses for not being myself lately. But I kind of miss me, at least I miss the person I used to be before this depression settled in. The candles help, they do! And for some reason people like them. It keeps me busy I guess. My kids say that I kind of zone out when I’m making them, but I guess I don’t really notice it. Sometimes I feel the days just passing by in quick little motions, but I still think about you all the time. I still miss you. I wish I got to say goodbye. It’s weird to know that I’m here on this planet, existing and going through this life without anyone to call or ask for advice. I’m supposed to be a mom, and have all the answers for my kids, and help them but I can’t help but feeling like I never have any answers, or anyone to ask about what to do, when I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of googling things, I wish you were here.

You didn’t get a funeral, or a burial. And seemingly overnight you were cremated without any kind of service or someone to say special things about how amazing you were. You taught me so many things that my mother should have, but never did. I wish you could have saved me when I was little, but I know everything happens for a reason and you saved me when I grew up and became a woman. You were there for all the important parts of my adulthood. You deserved so much more than what happened after you died. I was so upset when your belongings were trashed and tossed outside to be soaked in the rain. I think pieces of your life still sit strewn across uncle Randy’s backyard. He wouldn’t let me keep any piece of you. I just have a picture, one wool sweater, memories and the things you taught me.

After Patty told me you died, I don’t remember crying at all. I remember hanging up the phone, walking back into the house and making hot plates of spaghetti for the kids. I didn’t say anything to anyone, because I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good meal. The meal that you taught me how to cook with uncle randy so many years ago.

Anyways, your birthday is coming up in exactly one month on April 7th, and I wanted to do something special to honor you. Something for myself, and something for you. I’ve been working on this “candle cookbook” which is basically what you always wanted to do. Yanno how you kept all those recipe cards and made biscuits from scratch? Well, I can’t really cook, but I’m pretty good at making arts and crafts. So I thought I would take my candle crafts and turn them into a “cookbook.” they are all food shaped candles anyways, so it kind of makes sense yanno? I made a goal to have it finished on your birthday, and I was thinking about going down to the library and printing some copies of it. I know it’s not much, but I thought it would be a nice way for me to find closure. And I thought maybe, I could write to you everyday until then? 30 days to you… We have so much to catch up on, I just wish you could write back. 

Love America,