My much loved grandma died on Saturday.
It still hasn't quite sunk in.
She died quite suddenly. On Friday she was diagnosed with liver cancer and given two months to live (selfishly I was pleased she had that long as it meant we would see her at Christmas and have the chance to say goodbye), then she had a fatal heart attack on Saturday night.
The rational side of me thinks of it as a blessing. Now she won't have to suffer the ravages of the final stages of cancer.
My grandfather won't have to witness his beautiful, gregarious wife shrink and shrivel before his eyes.
We will always have the memory of her as she was for so many years - always laughing, playing the fool to entertain her grandchildren, a plate of some kind of delicious food in her hand ready to press upon guests, fresh lipstick applied even to go to the grocery store. That is how I want to remember her.
But I also wanted the chance to hug her and kiss her powdery cheek one more time, and to tell her how much I love her. And that even though I hadn't seen her for five years I thought about her and my grandfather all the time.
I just wish I had made my trip to California earlier. Now it will always be three weeks too late. I wish I had called more often, written more often, sent more pictures of the kids. I wish that I hadn't been so preoccupied with my busy life. I wish I had made the trip this summer.
I hope she knows this. I really hope she knows this.