I lost my grandmother when I was only four years old. She lived a long life, but because I was so young, my memories of her are not so much about moments as they are about feelings.
I remember feeling safe when I was with her. Feeling like the love she had for me made me a better person.
I remember the night she passed away. I played alone in the hospital 'playroom' while my parents stayed by her bedside. I knew that something was wrong. It was a lonely feeling, because though I didn't understand death, my parents' solemness told me that something had changed.
I am not religious, but I do believe my grandmother is present in my life somehow. I hope that someday I'll be able to thank her, hug her, and celebrate her birthday together once again.