I don’t know how to start this letter so I figure I’ll just jump right in. It was no surprise when I got the news of your passing. It made me feel more emptiness than sadness–like a part of me disappeared. You and I have had an incredible bond over the last five years and I am grateful for it everyday. Every Sunday during college, like clockwork, I would call you while I did laundry in the morning. I always knew I was too late if Mr. Trent already arrived after church, but even a few minutes on the phone went a long way. When I missed a Sunday, you would always tell me how I forgot. But while I should have been feeling guilt about missing those days, knowing you looked forward to these conversations as much as I did brought me a sense of comfort that I needed during those years where I often felt lost.
I know that these frequent calls disappeared in the last year when I went back abroad and especially in these last six months since I have been unemployed. I felt embarrassed and I didn’t want to call you to let you know how all my plans had fallen apart from what I’d imagined. However, the few times we spoke over the last few months let me know that I should have just called anyway because you just wanted to hear my voice. Thankfully, I was given that last opportunity a few weeks ago when we visited. We got to catch up on everything, which was really a whole lot of nothing on both of our ends, but we laughed and laughed like we always did. I told you that the next time you hear from me, I will have a job and I will not call you without good news. Unfortunately, that phone call never came because I thought we had more time, but I can’t dwell on that. Instead, I choose to remember you by the small life lessons you may or may not know have impacted me:
- Always keep your own money.
- Always pair your earrings with a necklace.
- Always dress for company.
- Always carry lipstick (even if it’s the only thing in your purse).
Obviously you taught me more things than this, but these were things you always told me. I am going to miss you incessantly asking me if I had a boyfriend yet even though you said marriage was “just alright;” I am going to miss you trying to convert me into a Thaddeus Matthews fan and trying to get me to try Morgan David wine; but most importantly, I am going to miss our talks, laughing about everything and nothing every Sunday morning. I am glad we had this tradition because this is what I can look back on along with the childhood memories I had in your house on Trigg. I don’t know what happens now, but I know you’ll never really be gone. You spent 97 years on this Earth and I was lucky to spend 23 of them with you. So here’s to one last Sunday chat–I hope you had a wonderful day with Granddad. I love you ❤