This was a hard one for me. There are so many people that I miss, mainly because they have died while I go on. There are three letters here but there could be many more.
Hi Nana C
I miss you. Sixteen years passed and it could be sixty it makes little difference to the gap in my life that was your place. I meditate sometimes and I remember you brushing my hair when I laid on your lap. I can almost feel you in those moment. I know that you are always with me but its not the same.
Hubby is still mad at you. He can not believe you were declared dead and he got the call to come get us and then you revived till he walked in the door and then you died a second time. I am not sure the doctor that declared you dead the first time was best pleased to be called back to an alive woman! I know it is because you wanted Mum and me to have Hubby there because of all our men he was the strongest. Thank you for that.
You were one of the strongest women I knew and still are. I loved that you were always available to me and my brother. I cry as I write this because I still miss you. Your porridge was the best ever, I don’t eat it now because it just isn’t right. I still knit, thank you for teaching me. Sorry I was so bad at crocheting!
I miss your hugs. I miss your words that used to caress me gently and wrap round me like a familiar shawl. I hope you and Aunty D can catch up now. Her passing last year was hard because it felt like losing you again. She had become a third grandmother, the last of that generation and she gave me stories of you and her when you were young. I miss her too, very much.
I love you Nana C and miss your physical presence but I am so grateful that when I need support or confidence I can still hear you in my head, cheering me on.
It is three years since we last talked, well emailed. I still miss you very much and probably always will. You inspired me so very much at a time in my life when I was lacking confidence and feeling quite lost.
Please take the time to read the book we wrote in your memory. It is published this year. I know it might mean you have to stop debating with the other “talkers” up there but take the time, just in case you didn’t know what you meant to us.
I hear your voice in my head when I need confidence. I still have the essays and your comments with them. I read them sometimes when I need that boost knowing that we connected through my writing.
So much to say and crying too hard to write it. Just know how much you meant to me as my teacher and as a human being.
With deep respect
I knew you when we were kids and somehow we got separated. I just wanted you to know I missed you and you have a place here with me. No judgement. No anger. No recriminations. Just acceptance. So please, come home where you belong.