I know that you hated having your picture taken, and I saw the frown on your face those times when you realized I was trying to be sneaky with my camera, but there are pictures of you in this house that make me smile every time I see them.
A picture at the top of the stairs that was always in our house somewhere. You with my sister. Her in yellow, you in a suit. You’re lifting her up and smiling. Your first grandchild.
Every time I walk up the stairs I look at you, the love in your eyes for your granddaughters and great-granddaughter and I smile at the memories.
I look at your face and I am overwhelmed by the love I can see and feel, and the pride I take in producing a daughter you could love like that.
There are few things that lift my heart up so much as knowing that other people love her as deeply as I do. I had no idea it would feel this way.
Waiting to introduce her to you seemed to take so long. I just wanted you to know her, and then I was so thrilled for her to be old enough to know you. But now she misses you like I do.
I’ve found, though, that it’s not hard to think about you. I smile at the memories. I’m thankful for you. I know that you lived the best life you could, that you loved and took care of us.
I hope that at the end of my life I can say the same.