Dear Amie

*Over the next several days, I will be writing a letter to my grandmother.*

Dear Amie,


It has been six long years since you passed away.  So much has happened in the past six years.


2005:
The night before you passed, AT called and told you that in May, she, UD, C and L would be coming so that you could finally take them to Disney World.  You stated that May was a long time away.  I think you knew that you weren't going to make it until then to see your youngest grandchildren enjoy the wonder that is Disney.  When they came in May, we went and had a great time.  L was scared of the dark rides, like Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion.  I know you would have stayed outside with her or cuddled her, ensuring her she was safe.

In August, Will started 9th grade, B and C started 5th grade and L started 1st grade.  Also, a category 5 hurricane, Katrina, struck New Orleans and Mississippi.  It probably wiped out the house you had down there and there are still clean-up efforts going on.  Apparently you order a National Geographic Atlas before you passed away.  We received it in early September and it was bookmarked to Louisiana.  Mom felt like you were sending a message that you were alright, since you like LA a lot.


In September, I turned 21.  Even though I am not one to party and I wasn't particularly looking forward to my birthday, it was even harder realizing your birthday was two days away and we weren't going to celebrate it.  Sometimes growing up, it was hard to have to share a cake with you (even though we all knew it was mostly for me) or have joint gift-opening sessions.  As I grew up, I didn't mind as much.  This year though, it was gut-wrenching to have to celebrate alone.  Mom threw me a surprise party and I didn't want to go.  I just wanted to wallow in self-pity.  I ended up going and having a lot of fun.  Also, Will got his learner's permit, but was scared to drive.  One day, Mom and I took him out to give him practice.  He was going too fast and we told him to turn down a side street.  He turned into an oncoming truck and so to avoid an accident, he swerved into someone's yard.  There are still skid marks dug into the ground today, 5 1/2 years later.


In November, Will, mom and I decided to go to Mistletoe in your memory.  We knew you would want us to go and have fun, even though it was incredibly hard to walk through those doors without you.

The first Thanksgiving and Christmas without you was very hard.  Especially since I was expecting a Great Dane puppy under the tree.  Perhaps I thought a puppy would help ease the lack of companionship I suddenly found myself with when you left.  Seriously though, not having you to be the matriarch of our Christmas was like having no Christmas at all.  Dad tried to make your stuffing.  It tasted like the Christmas tree.  We told him that, because none of us could choke it down to be polite, he agreed.  No one made the stuffing (or ambrosia) like you did.

Right before the new year, your children finally sold your house.  It was bittersweet.  On one hand, we didn't have to keep thinking about it, keeping up the maintenance, knowing you're not there, torturing ourselves by going over there.  On the other hand though, it was sad to give up the last piece of you, even if it did have the eggplant colored wall.

I'm pretty sure we all got together at UJ's to celebrate the new year, which would hopefully bring happiness and joy, which would be a nice change from the sadness we all felt this year  We laughed and cried and it just wasn't the same without you.  No holiday or get-together ever will be from now on.