Dear Memere,
It has been almost thirteen years since you left us.
Thirteen years since I heard your voice, heard you tell me you loved
me. Thirteen years since you told me about all the crazy animal
adventures that you were having so far away from me. Thirteen years of
wishing you were still here and knowing you will never be here again. I
suppose I shouldn't wish you were still here, because I know that you
would be hurting. I don't want you to hurt, Memere. I just don't want to
keep missing you like I do.
I can barely remember your voice. I
watch those videos Dad made to keep you alive in my mind. I look through
the pictures to keep your face fresh in my soul. Its hard, though,
knowing I will never see you again. That I had only such a short time to
be loved by you. To get to know you. I wish I had gotten to know you
better.
Though, a part of me is terrified that if you were here
you wouldn't love me anymore. You wouldn't be proud of me. That is more
terrifying than any nightmare I could ever have. The thought that you
wouldn't love me if you were still here makes me work harder to be a
person you might be proud of. A person you would always love, in spite
of my many, many, faults. And I have so many, Memere. More than I can
count, even.
I wonder, sometimes, when I look in the mirror and
see my reflection staring back at me, if you would like the person I am
today. Would I still be someone you enjoyed talking to? Would I have
ever sent Dad a hateful letter? Would we all still be clinging to some
semblance of a family?
I can't remember how you smell, or what it
felt like to be in your arms. I can't remember those little things that
would make you still real in my world. I would give anything to talk to
you again. Anything to hear your soft accent. Anything to hear you tell
me again about the bear in the neighbor's swimming pool or the lizard
in your trash can.
I'd give anything to have had you there when I
got married. I don't think I've ever missed you as much as I did that
day. It was beautiful, even though it was just a courthouse ceremony. I
think you would've liked it. I hope you would've liked it.
Its
unfair, Memere. Its unfair that you left me when I was so young. I've
spent my entire growing up wishing you were here. Praying that somehow
the dead could come back, even for a few minutes. Just so I could say
goodbye. I never got to say goodbye. I didn't get to go to your funeral.
I don't even know where you are buried. Are you near Pepere? Are you
somewhere beautiful?
Its such a strange feeling, really. To be so
young and have no grandparents left. Pepere first, you, Grandpa and
finally Grandma Bobbi. It seems impossible really. Impossible that I
have lost you all. Implausible. Improbable. Insane.
I suppose,
simply put, I miss you. It only gets worse as I grow older. With each
passing year I feel your absence more keenly. I think, "I wish Memere
was here so I could tell her about this." But maybe you are here. Maybe
you already know. Maybe you are still with me, even when I feel that I
have lost all hold I thought I had on your memory. You are such a
beautiful memory. Something I never want to lose. Where would I be
without even a memory of you?
I love you.
I miss you.
I
wish you were somehow here, just for a little while. Just so I could
tell you everything I've been wanting to tell you for thirteen years.
Just so I could tell you that I love you and I miss playing piano with
you. I miss talking to you at night. I miss hearing your voice. I miss
that most of all, just hearing you speak always made me feel better. I
wish that wishing would give me something besides a throb of pain in my
chest and in my throat from holding back the tears.
Dear Memere, I love you.
Love,
Sarai.
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