Everywhere I look I see my grandmother. I see her in the hand sewn things we have around our home. I see her in her beautiful penmanship in the letters she wrote to me in UT. I see her in my children when I make her fudge. I see her in my cooking without measuring.
It stinks and is wonderful all the time. I can tell stories about her. I can remember her. But I can't go talk to her.
Not a day goes by that I do not think about my grandmother.