Grandmother, I have not seen you for many years. But still I remember your face. I remember you chasing me around our trampoline, in the backyard of the house I lived in in 9th grade. You were scolding me. I was running, scared of you, but laughing and rebellious too.
I see your strength and stubborness in my mother. I feel it in me. A legacy passed through generations, as real as the breaths I still take.
My mother tells me you passed on as purely and cleanly as you lived. No loose ends. 97 years.
It has been 20 years since I saw you last. My connection with you is faint, a memory deep in my belly. But now I am crying. Why? I feel my grief for you through the grief of my mother, as she feels it for you. Resonance. Vibration. Cycles.
I love you Mom.