I can't help but feel envious when I see my friends speak about their grandmothers. As time progresses and technology becomes increasingly popular, I see my roommate FaceTime hers. My other friend texts her grandma and they make plans over the holidays. From someone who lost both grandmothers while I was still relatively young, jealousy overtakes me numerous times although I rarely make this known.

Grandma, I hope you're looking down at me as I struggle through my twenties. I hope you see my bumps in the road as humorous as I do sometimes and you know that I really am trying. Since you left this earthly plane before I could accomplish many of the milestones that come with life, I just hold onto hope that you have viewed them from wherever you are.

You never got to see me drive and get my license nor did you witness how dolled up I became when I went to my high school senior prom. My first heartbreak was consoled by my mother, father, sisters, friends. However, I would have really loved to sit beside you, probably still crying, and listen to your wisdom. You always were extremely smart and you always seem to know exactly what to say.

I remember sitting on your lap, your nails long enough to scratch my back, and the days would just sail by. Those days seem like centuries ago, but just break out the family movies or old photographs and I am right back there in your living room sitting on your lap.

I wish you could have seen my graduate high school and college; I wish you could have seen the pride in my eyes as I felt like I was on top of the world. I would have seen you in the audience smiling back at me.

There are days when life feels much too heavy for me to handle and nothing seems to ease the pain. Those are the moments that I reach for my cell phone and immediately withdraw for I remember that you are not a phone call away. The best I can do is sit on my bed and look up at my ceiling, pretending I can see your reflection. I speak honestly and make pretend you can hear me and are hanging onto my every word.

Then there is my future moments; my wedding, when I buy my first house. Maybe a child? Who knows. I just know you won't be there to see it all take place. I, however, try and think of these instances in a more positive note. Maybe you won't physically be there sitting next to me admiring my engagement ring. Perhaps you won't come visit my new home and see how I've saved everything you've gotten me including that dusty old carrousel that somehow still plays music.

But as long as that still plays that familiar tune, no matter how long it continues to age, I know you are with me. When I see a butterfly hovering along my front yard, I will have the confidence that I am never truly alone. So maybe you were there to see everything I've gone through and maybe, just maybe, you'll be there for the rest.