Deep Grief continued. Plus gratitude. Plus Joy.

Nearly a year she's been gone. Her face is the one I conjure when I need peace or strength. My whole life, more than 46 years, I was lucky enough to have her be my grandmother. She's still my grandmother and I'm still lucky. But oh, to touch her soft skin and smell her sweet head! To see that look in her eyes when you know she is listening so hard to everything you're saying because no matter what it is it's the most important thing in the world in that moment. To hear her holler our names and scold us. To watch her teach my little cousins and their children how to swim and cook (not well) and knit just like she taught me and my children. Remember that look of astonished joy she'd get if you told her about something great your kid did? Or your friend's kid did? Some little accomplishment? That beautiful smiling face.

And I'm so glad I always knew. I always knew how lucky I was that she was my gram. How lucky I was that she was my role model. How lucky I was to be hers.

She was scared a year ago when she was dying. She was really scared and it was really fucking real and horrible. But then when we knew it was true and the morphine did its thing it was ok. We all got to hold her as she went. Even the ones who couldn't be physically present in the room. We told her we loved her over and over again, stroked her hand, her hair, kissed her sweet, soft cheek. Kali sang to her and to all of us and made a sound-loop of lake sounds. We told stories and jokes; some at her expense. People I had never met came in to kiss her goodbye and tell us what she meant to them and we welcomed them as family and asked them to stay as long as they wished because that's what she does. I watched my daughter say goodbye to her great grandmother. And I missed my mother like I always do but not like you might think.

Henekis said it best with the Gladys Knight song she played at the service for Gram: Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me. I listen to that song and remember what Grammy always said: "We're so lucky." She was almost 95 and we got to say goodbye.