First and last letters to Grandma. You will be missed.
I was wondering if we could be penpals. Let’s write each other letters about our life. Mom said you played tennes. Could you write about that? Love, Becca”
We checked out the plot today. Dad seemed happy with the positioning of the tree. It felt a bit reminiscent of your courtyard. The family went for lunch after but I could barely eat a thing. All I wanted was plain french toast, no challah and no berries, just as you would like it. I wanted to discuss the antics of your sneaky floor mates at the village, the ones who would kick you beneath the dinner table when you took too strong a stance against the inedible ham sandwiches. I wanted to walk the botanic gardens, playing Barbara Streisand on my phone while you hummed along and taught me about the Kennedys. I wanted to play our millionth game of gin rummy, only to beat you by one point and listen to you call my father, complaining that I was being cruel to my grandma. But instead I sat amongst your children and grandchildren, listening to their many memories of the finest woman they knew.
P.S. And no, I’m sorry but you may not steal Craig. I still won’t allow it.”