Dear Grandma

September 23, 2004 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Dear Grandma,

Well, it's late September again. Fall is finally here, but you wouldn't know it - we have the air conditioner going. I know, I know.... a waste of money. Right?

Bear is 4 years old now. Grandma - you would be so proud of your great-grandson. He's such a good kid.

He's polite, and considerate, and bright, and loving. He likes to trace our faces with his hands and look into our eyes. He likes to help out around the house. He isn't into sports yet, but he loves to be at the park and ride his bike.

You won't be happy to know that he watches too much TV. But he's also a whiz with painting and crafts, and very advanced in the computer games we let him play. He recognizes letters, and speaks 2 languages and understands a smattering of 2 more.

You can see the me in him - in his cheeks and his eyes, and his articulate conversations. You can see the you in him, too - in his quirky humor and coppery freckles.

Grandma, it hurts so much that you aren't here to share him with us.

Do you get the news where you are? Your guy is running for reelection. He may just win, too. A 2-term Bush, who would have thunk it? The Dems put forward John Kerry. Oh, stop laughing Grandma. It's a tight race. Really.

What else?

Well, it's that time of year. Birthdays and such. CD and I just celebrated another wedding anniversary. We're trying to reclaim the day as one of joy. But it's hard, when the world is keening in rememberance. I'm so sorry that you lived to see that. That in the last weeks of your life, terror loomed so large. But we're fighting it in our own little way. We are laughing, and celebrating life and family.

CD wasn't shipped out after all. We thank God all the time that the clock ran out on CD's discharge. We spending a lot of time praying for those who are over there.

The're beheading people on video, Grandma. Civilization has once again fallen before raw barbarism. It's agonizing to look at the news.

We tell Bear that the world is not always a nice place.. We scare him about strangers. We give him nightmares, and try to explain why his bedroom is safe from monsters but not the sidewalk. He's so little, Grandma. And I fumble it.

I miss your counsel.

In the good and the bad, and the cycles between the two, I miss our Sunday night talks. The catching up and snapping about politics and the news and the world.

I miss you.

I miss you so very. very much.

Love,
Elizabeth

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