Wrinkles by Amy Rae


Posted on: March 1, 2010

We attended my grandmother’s homecoming on Wednesday, December 16th. She died the Sunday before, after weeks and months of slipping away from us.
I cannot remember the last time we had a conversation.

Did I know it was going to be our last? No, I always thought there would be another.

Maybe I would’ve written down her words, remembered how we said goodbye. But somehow, I think she knew when it would be her last – she gripped my hand and she wouldn’t let go. She didn’t speak, and if she did – or I did – those words have long since faded. But that grip, her fingers so frail and so strong, held tightly to me, to my heart, to our love.

And that is what I hold on to – that she knew and she wanted me to know.
…I miss her so much.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s