Summary:

Letter To My Angel

I still remember your soft, warm hands. I remember the wine-colored nail polish you used to wear. I always used to say it matched your personally in a way- “Mysterious.” I remember going from living with you and seeing your face every day to visiting you in a nursing home, seeing your face every week. I try to find the Honey Graham crackers we always used to eat together while watching some show you liked. Now I wish I paid attention to it because I don’t even remember the name. I remember your laugh from 5 years ago but can’t remember what my math teacher taught me in class 5 days ago. I have vivid images when it comes to you.

I try to seek the love you gave me, but can’t find it. I try to find it in everyone else, not completely understanding nobody can give the love you gave. I remember the dream you had the night before you left me; it was 15 days before your birthday. You had a dream about having a birthday party in a graveyard, not knowing that was your way of saying you had enough. I remember seeing the pain in your eyes but never asking “are you okay,” because I was always happy seeing you. I’m sorry I never asked. I’m sorry I couldn’t take away your pain then.

You went from warm to cold in a matter of days. I remember the last time seeing you, lying peacefully with a wine-colored lipstick on to match your wine-colored nails, but this time you were cold. You were silent and still. I didn’t just walk down the aisle and touch you and walk away. I touched you long and silently with tears flowing. While touching you, I thought how the years would be without you. I touched you thinking you’d touch me back.

Years later and I’m wondering if you’re proud. Wondering if you’re happy. I’ll forever be seeking the love you gave knowing I won’t ever find it.

This is a letter to you, my angel, letting you know that I still remember you, your laugh, the feel of your body, and of course your love. Without you, I wouldn’t be as strong and rare as I am today.

Love you Grandma,

Sincerely, your granddaughter, Destini