We came to Indiana for a family visit and didn’t know that we’d be saying goodbye to Grammie.
This is the way she would have wanted things. She got to see you, Mom, and Eliza one more time, and she passed while we were out of the house. We all wanted her to suffer less than she had these past few years, but she was a fighter and certainly motivated by the love for her family, including you. We also have to give your Popa Roger a lot of credit for the support and resilience the last 16 years that Grammie battled cancer and complications that affected her lung and heart. That kind of dedication is how people stay married for 48 years. Love can outlast just about anything.
This letter isn’t meant to be an obituary. There’s another place for that. What I do want you to know is that Grammie did a lot of things right, and the testament to that was how many people showed up at the house just hours after she died to mourn and support Popa and Mom.
There’s no easy way about these things, and candidly it’s been a strange blend of sadness and stress to determine what happens next with the family affairs. As such, we’ve been asking you and Eliza to be a little more independent.
You two have been processing things your own way. You put your heads down creating art about Grammie the night she died to help everyone feel better. You have been providing us updates about if she is past outerspace to reach heaven (“She’s almost there”) and suggested we put her ashes in a flower pot. You’ve also been taking breaks watching shows on your Kindle and organizing your Pokemon cards, a new hobby.
Sometimes your Mom has a tough moment and you’ve been doing a great job giving her big hugs to help her feel better. I don’t have a witty or savvy way to end this letter because I’m still in a bit of shock, so I’ll end by saying that I’m thankful for our Indiana family and the memories we’ve had here with Grammie.
Love always, Dad