To the woman who treated me like a granddaughter,
I can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. It's too much knowing I won't hear your voice again.
Dad told me the story of how you guys met. You drove by his favorite fishing spot on your way to work every morning and one day, you happened to stop and ask if he had much luck there. You used to stop and talk with him at that spot for years. Then my mother got pregnant and you were always asking if she had the baby yet, if she had had me. You retired, but not before you found out I had been born and you met me. He didn't see you after that.
Until Dad realized you actually lived right across the street from his work. He said it was like meeting an old friend again. From then on, you two were inseparable. Which inevitability lead to all of us being inseparable.
We were told you had cancer two years ago. You fought like hell, we know. Don't ever think you let us down. You did the best you could and you stayed as long as you could, we treasure that.
It broke my heart to hear dad say it. I stayed in my room for days but you had a way of changing the mood to something positive. I had to do the same.
You loved the beach. We used to sit for hours with our toes in the sand, talking. I collect shells for you now. You always loved them, but never were we able to take living organisms from the beach. You loved animals and never wanted to disrupt them. The beach is a place you loved, so I grew to love it too.
We also shared a love for words. We always talked about books. For hours. You've given me countless books and I've read them all thousands of times. We would sit in our beach chairs and read our books and complain that the wind blew our pages over.
I hate when my page flips and I'm not done reading it but I would give anything to be back there, with the wind blowing the pages of my book everywhere with you sitting right next to me.
I wish to hear your laugh and see your smile. I wish to get a hug just one last time. I know you're somewhere baking and reading, and I just hope you're at peace.
So to the woman who treated me like a granddaughter... I never got to say it before you left but you didn't have to treat me like family, technically we aren't related. You did though, and I will treasure every memory I made with you. You were the best grandmother a girl could ever ask for. I miss you a shit ton. Bake a chocolate cake for me and read a nice book. We'll meet again soon.
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