As I’m writing this, it’s the day of your 77th birthday.
As I’m writing this, I’m overwhelmed with the memories I have of you, of the memories I share with you, and of the memories that other people have told me about you.
As I’m writing this, I’m thinking about the rest of my family, and how hard the last seven months have been for us.
Most importantly, I’m thinking about how hard this Christmas Eve, the first without you, is going to be.
For my entire life, Christmas Eve was always at your house. I spent so much time in that house, whether it be Easter, Christmas Eve, or every other random time Mom and I would go spend the day with you. And now, that house is on the verge of being sold. All I ask is that the buyers of that house love, cherish, and make as many memories in it as you, I, and the rest of our family did.
This Christmas Eve is going to be especially hard. To go somewhere else will be strange enough, but to go somewhere else and expect to see you, to look around to find you, and then still not see you, will be the hardest of all.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. I remember all of our trips to St. Vinnie’s, and can’t walk in the doors without being reminded of you. I remember the misery of reading the Christmas Story out loud in front of all my family when everyone knew I was terrible at reading out loud, but I think fondly back on it because I did it for you. I sing along to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and I think of you.
Long story short, there are very few things that I do without thinking of you.
With Christmas Eve just a little over a week away, plans have been being made for several days. The cousins have been reminded to bring your special cider glasses we used every year, and the coffeepot used for cider will be in place with the special “spice sticks” you used. Most importantly, you will be with us in our hearts and thoughts as we go through the difficulty of our first Christmas without you.
I want you to know that though you are gone, you will never be forgotten. I love you, and hope that you have been met with everything you hoped and believed your entire life. I hope that Great Grandma and Grandpa welcomed you home with open arms, and that you had a wonderful birthday. Most of all, I want to wish you a very Merry Christmas with your family, and everyone else you have been reacquainted with.
I love you, and can’t wait to see you again.
Love,
Your (favorite!) granddaughter, Tehya.
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