It’s been four years today since we lost you. It makes me wonder where the time’s gone, because it still feels like yesterday to me. The theory that time heals all wounds is bullshit. I would give just about anything to have one more conversation with you. And no, dreams don’t count. I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck you were trying to get through to me in the last one, telling me you had a secret place hidden away for me that I had to figure out how to find on my own. And if you were trying to tell me there’s an afterlife and you were keeping a space open for me, do me a favor and hold that thought for another fifty years or so, huh?
I re-wrote the book I wrote for you, and it comes out next year. I’d like to think you’d approve of it, even though I never was sure how you felt about the lgbt community in general. I know you never would have turned your back on me, but I never, ever wanted to have the “Granny, I’m not a girl” talk with you. Even though I have a feeling you knew. You’re no dummy.
I hope the last four years have been kind to you, because even if I’m not religious (yeah, sorry about that, nothing’s changed there) I’d like to believe it doesn’t just all come to a screeching halt when the body stops. I hope you’re giving Grampa a hard time, and I hope you’ve spent the years catching up with your youngest daughter. I hope you’ve given your sister lots of hugs for me, because I miss her too. I hope that once in a while you think of all of us who are still here. I hope you occasionally look in on the great-grandson you never got a chance to meet, and I hope you’ve gotten to see what fantastic moms (and grandma, and uncle) that kid’s got. And, selfishly, I hope you’re proud of me. I hope you approve of me finally embracing who I really am.
I also kind of hope you throw a lightning bolt at my ex or something. You know, if you’re taking requests.
But I’m going to go eat my pecan pie for breakfast, since it’s Pecan Pie For Breakfast Day, and I’m going to think about you feeding your grandkids pecan pie for breakfast and smile. Because the fact that you’re not here right now doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of the greatest people I’ve had in my life. It sure as hell didn’t change how loved you are.
And hey, if you could pop up in a dream without being vague, that would be awesome.