Hi Grandma

"Hi grandma!"
"Oh hi honey!" She hugs me tight and when she lets me go, I run into her kitchen. I climb up onto the stool to see what's on the counter. I'm not disappointed. There on the counter is the glass container full of candy and a bag of chips. Grandma walks in with the rest of my family; my eyes find hers expectantly. She smiles at me.
"Do you want something?" she asks me with her kind voice.
"Yes please!"
"Help yourself honey." I smile and reach for the candy bowl, pulling out a KitKat bar. Grandma pours the chips into a bowl and offers me a 7-up. I love going to Grandma's house, she always has the best things.

The memory of all those visits hit me one-by-one. They play vividly and rapidly before my eyes. Each one as fond as the last. I think of all the birthdays, Easters, Thanksgivings, Christmases, and New Year's spent with her. The ache in my heart intensifies with each memory. The last memory hits me full and hard and cracks my heart.

I sit here in the pew, uncomfortable in these stiff black clothes. The atmosphere of the room makes me shift nervously. It's too tense and too cramped. My eyes scan the sea of black and catch the ever-present white cloths. They find themselves looking at the front again. The big black box mocks me, knowing it contains something – someone- special to me. I glare at it until I feel tears in my eyes. I blink hard. Bound and determined to not be one of the crowd. The preacher drones on and on. His words are meant to be comforting, but I wish he would be done. I want to go back to that house and receive that warm embrace and be greeted by that counter of goodies, but I know I can't and never will again. That thought alone is enough to make me choke.

That memory stings my mind for a bit longer. The crisp morning breeze brings me back to the present. I pull my jacket around me a bit tighter and fix my beanie. I stare at the gravestone that is in front of me. The memories of that coffin being lowered into the ground sear my brain. I shiver from the cold it brings. I kneel down and run my fingers across the smooth granite. The carved words remind me that this beloved person is gone from this earth for good. I close my eyes and pray that I may see her again in Heaven. When I open my eyes, the words are still there. They're as permanent as ever.

Violet Hawbaker
Beloved by all
Feb. 9, 2018 – Jan. 21, 2018

The words make my eyes sting. I do not cry though. There is no reason for me to cry sad tears. She's someplace better and no longer in pain. I stare at the words a moment longer, then I get up to leave. A flash of purple catches my eye. There, on the ground, is a fresh new violet. I crouch down and let my finger touch its soft, velvety petal. I cry and laugh.

"Hi grandma," I whisper. The breeze that's been tickling my ears brings a response.
"Oh hi honey."