2020 Published Piece: Prose
This letter speaks to my heart. Written for my Grandma, Garnet Marie Mazur, she was one of my best friends, biggest influences, and my role model.
On a whim, I decided to enter it to the Lumen, my school’s Creative Arts Magazine. Not only did it make the online edition, but despite it’s length, it also made the print version.
A LETTER TO YOU
Dear Grandma,
There’s so much that I want to say, but the jumble of words and thoughts pop into my brain at random moments. As you were in your final stages, I received the call from Mama on Wednesday night and my immediate thought was a memory from when I was very little. I remembered sitting in the car seat in the backseat of your small maroon car, waiting while you ran into the house to grab something. Every time we would stop by your house, you would always give me a small container of marshmallows to eat on the way. I have been out of a car seat for a while now, but I think I remembered this moment because it was so innocent and pure. Nothing but happiness while waiting for you to come back before we drove off to wherever. The night you passed, I texted Mama and Daddy this exactly: “My heart hurts. I can’t stop crying. I thought I was fine after tonight, but I think I understand loss now…” To preface, I usually do not cry when I am sad, and up until now, while I have lost people, I don’t think it ever truly hit me as hard as this one. With your Alzheimer’s battle, sometimes it felt like you were already gone, yet I still sobbed Thursday night over how much I felt like I had lost. There’s no other way to describe it except to say that my heart felt heavy. Grandma, in the 19 years that I have been honored to know you, you’ve taught me so much about life. Whether directly or indirectly, from learning my colors, all the way down to how to respond positively to life’s struggles. I suppose your death is my final lesson—how to handle grief, and how to recognize the good in the hearts of the people that I’m surrounded by. From my roommate who stayed up and talked to me all night Thursday until I could fall asleep, to the people who I feel like I’ve never really talked to who have reached out; they exemplify the good in everyone that you always saw. I keep getting flashbacks of when Halie and I were little and you would baby-sit us. From you quietly saying “peep peep” so we could find you during hide and seek, to you telling us stories from your life on your porch swing, you have had such a big impact on my life. I credit you as one of the people who gave me a love of creating art; you would bring over the craft bin, and now I am a graphic design major. It makes me sad that Ada and Avery will never have the chance to form these same memories with you. We went to Myrtle Beach together as a family for fifteen years and my favorite part was always eating breakfast with you, looking out over the ocean and then looking for shark’s teeth together. We probably walked for miles up and down the shoreline. These past few years have been tough on everyone, but especially you. You have dealt with so much loss in life from losing your husband, child, and, several brothers, even your own health; but a stranger would never know because there was always a twinkle in your eyes. I wonder, did Grandpa have a twinkle in his eyes too? I hope there was. I always thought that he was the one who always helped me to find shark’s teeth, there always seems to be a different shine to them that no one else but I could see. Maybe that’s his glimmer shining down on them, maybe now yours will be there too.
All I have to say is thank you. Thank you for the lifetime of memories. I hope that one day we can find shark’s teeth together again in the sky.
Love you with all my heart, Gillian
