To my dearest Grandma in Heaven:
It has been three whole years. Can you believe it? Because I can’t.
I feel like it was just yesterday that you were still alive. I feel like we were just in your car on the way to the park, making a pit stop to eat McDonald’s breakfast together. The hotcakes were (and still are) my favorite.
I feel like it was just yesterday that we drove from Latrobe to Indiana to visit Kelly. I feel like you just introduced me to my twin cousin Jessica. Don’t worry, I do stay in touch with both of them.
I feel like it was just yesterday that we were sitting in the church pews together with you holding my hand. You always had Winterfresh gum for me because I was always hungry before the church service was over. I feel like it was just yesterday when I would fall asleep on your lap in the church pews. And after church, we’d always go to Shop N’ Save to get foot-long hot dogs for lunch.
It feels like just yesterday that we were making homemade ham pot pie together in the kitchen. You always let me help with the dough noodles. That was (and still is) my favorite part.
I feel like I was just participating in the 4th of July Parade for the church with you and pappy watching proudly from the crowd. Mom and dad have the picture you took with the polaroid hanging up on their fridge.
Weren’t we just on the way to Ohio to meet my cousin who I never knew I had? Or wasn’t I just sitting in the backseat singing along to Christian songs with you on my way to Vacation Bible School?
Wasn’t it just yesterday when we watched game shows together in the living room, and always talked about how someday we’d go on The Price is Right or Wheel of Fortune as a duo? The Price is Right toured near Harrisburg and Kyle and I were going to go, but it wasn’t going to be the same since you weren’t with me.
Wasn’t it just yesterday when you taught me how to play a form of Gin Rummy, and I was asking you to play anytime we weren’t doing anything? And those time when you played with Uncle Bum and Aunt Carrie and never let me play with the grown-ups so I was forced to watch The Sandlot in the living room for the millionth time? Trust me, I have no complaints because The Sandlot is still one of my all-time favorites.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that we went to Idlewild Park, where we took train rides through Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood? Or when we rode the Tilt-A-Whirl together and I was mystified about how gravity forces you against the ride?
Wasn’t it just yesterday when you encouraged me to play basketball with your neighbor’s son or when you asked the neighbor if I could ride her horses? I have a picture of those somewhere but they’re probably still in WV.
Wasn’t it just yesterday when we would play Bingo together, I won $500, and you would tease me about marrying the kid who brought me my french fries?
And yet, none of that happened yesterday. I’m not a child anymore. And you left this Earth to be with pappy, Uncle Rick and Angie three years ago today.
Just over three years ago was the last time that I talked to you, that I gave you a hug, that I held your hand, that I brought you flowers for your birthday. I didn’t know at that time that that would be the last time I ever saw you. 
You were so concerned about me having to drive all the way back to Harrisburg by myself, when in reality there was nowhere else I would have rather been. I knew you weren’t feeling one hundred percent, and I knew it had been quite some time since you felt that well. I knew that the one place I had to be at that moment was by your side.
I didn’t know at that time about the dreams you were having, where you saw pappy and Uncle Rick again. I didn’t know that only a few days later, you’d be lying in a hospital bed with tubes and machines surrounding you. I didn’t know that I’d be driving out to Latrobe on Good Friday to say my goodbyes. I didn’t know that I’d be the one to have to tell you that it was OK for you to go- that even though we needed you here on Earth, pappy, Uncle Rick, and Angie needed you more. I had to tell you that even though we would be in pain because we missed you, that we would get through it together.
I went to the church after leaving the hospital to pray for you. Pastor Ralph’s wife magically recognized me after not seeing me for at least 15 years. I had been pacing around the church for at least ten minutes until they saw me. The doors of the church were locked, but they let me in to pray for you. Pastor Ralph stayed and prayed with me and held my hand at the same altar where I’d go up with pappy as a kid to pray.
Mom and I ate McDonald’s breakfast on the morning of your funeral at the top of the parking garage that I thought was so cool when I was younger- the same one you and pappy always drove me to after getting McDonald’s. It was a cloudy morning and rain was in the forecast, but while we were at the top of the parking garage, the sun broke through. Mom and I knew you were there.
I know you’ll never physically see this letter, but I hope and pray you somehow know it exists. I need you to know how much I love and miss you. I need you to know how sorry I am that I wasn’t around more often as I grew older. I stopped coming up for the summers when I became a teenager, and even though I enjoyed those summers with my friends, I wish we could’ve spent more time together.
I long for one more card game, one more conversation, one more hug, one more laugh, one more adventure at Bingo, one more church service, one more smile. However, I know these wishes aren’t feasible, at least not anytime in the near future.
So today I write to you in hopes that you’re proud of me. In the years that you’ve been gone, I got engaged (to Kyle- I hope you remember him), we moved into two different apartments and just recently a house, Kyle and I got married, I started another new job, I received a few promotions/raises, we adopted a cute little pup named Oakley and I leased my first car.
Kyle is doing really well for himself, too. He has a reliable car and a good job that he loves. For only being 25, we’re both doing really well for ourselves.
Whenever I think of love, I think of you and pappy. You were married for 60 years before pappy passed away. I knew that whenever I said yes to Kyle’s proposal, we would have a love like yours and pappy’s. I want you to know that I’m so truly happy, but I wish that you could have been at our wedding, to see our house, and to meet our puppy.
I’m sorry I don’t get to visit your last Earthly resting place as much as I’d like to. But I did bury those bright blue flowers with you. They survived through your funeral, which I never thought would happen in a million years. They looked just as fresh as the day that I bought them for you. I hope you liked them as much as I did.
And this is where I leave you. It took me days to write this letter, years to even have the strength to write it to you. So I’ll leave you with this- I love you so much, grandma. I miss you dearly. I hope I’ve made you proud. Rest peacefully.
Love,
Emily
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