Today would have been my grandma's 93rd birthday. She passed away 22 years ago this November and up until recent years, I would remember her often. Now it seems too many days pass without remembering something. I'm fearful of forgetting her. Her voice. The warmth I felt whenever we were together.
My grandma smelled of Dove soap and lemon drops. She had the softest skin, I could just rub her hands forever. She would make bacon sandwiches and coffee for breakfast. She would try and get me to eat things like grapefruit, or liver (things I still hate). From my earliest memories up until she passed, she would keep maraschino cherries in her fridge; knowing I'd always sneak into the kitchen and grab a few whenever I came to visit. She painted my toenails a hot coral pink when I was 4. She made me feel pretty, and smart, and brave. She felt like home. My grandma was my security blanket, my hero, my friend, and my safe haven.
This picture was taken at Christmas, 1989. Thats my 16 year old self next to her, adoring her. I would have never thought back then I would only have 5 more years with her. What I would have done differently had I known.
I'm writing this all down so I can remember. So I can go back and think about how lovely she felt.