To Gram

Grammy,

It’s been

A little while.

I wanted to tell you

That everything is in bloom, and

I realized I was wrong.

I thought this cruel disease left you hollow. 

I thought that when it took your memories and your words, none of you would be left. 

I thought memories were things that fade away, shatter, or get lost. 

But they’re not so fragile. And you’re still here, aren’t you?

It’s true that memories come and go. I thought that yours were forever out of reach– you don’t know my face, and my voice is far away. But the tide comes back in, the Moon waxes and wanes, and spring is here again. Our lives were never just archives for us to keep. 

I’m angry at myself for thinking you were gone. All I had to do was look around.

I drive by your old house to see that the trees are blossoming. They will next spring, too, and the next after that. I hear you call my name over and over again in the breeze. Every word you ever said and every laugh that ever bloomed from you grows among the wildflowers. Your memories might not be with you now, but they’re everywhere else. You are etched into the world.

We leave, but only as raindrops visit the ocean or the sea returns to mist. Nothing fades, nothing dies, everything moves on. You’re still here. You’ve always been here. I am comforted to know that you will never leave.

The silence in your cushioned room scares me. Sometimes, I don’t quite know what to say. 

But now I know: when I speak, you hear me. The birds sing your reply outside the window. 

I think my words are coming back to me now. We’ll talk soon.

Yours,

Sana