Eight years seems like a lifetime. But it also seems like you were just here. Your passing becomes a bit easier each day, but it doesn't enable me to miss you any less. I still desire to talk with you, to sing with you and share a meal with you. I want to go to garage sales and thrift stores together and walk on the paved paths with the kids. There are new movies and books I know you would adore. But mostly, I just want to hold your hand. To see you smile. To spend time in the same room with you.
Sometimes when the pain of your absence is so heavy, I have caught myself creating a story or tale that makes it just a bit easier. You are away. Maybe on a trip. To a cabin up north or even another cruise. Someplace you loved. A place that made you smile. Maybe Hawaii one last time. By pretending you are away, it helps me imagine you happy and content and creating new memories.
I will never not miss you. Even when I am old and gray. I will still long for you to be here. But when I am old and gray, we would have more in common. By then, I may be a grandma just like you. And I know that is what you loved the most. Being a grandma is what made you shine. Being a grandma is where you found your groove. You were the perfect example of how to love your children by loving your grandchildren well. I hope some day to carry on that role.
How thankful I am that you are no longer in pain. To be absent from the body is to be present with our King. And remembering this, makes me jealous that you are able to dwell in your eternal home. I long for heaven. I love you, mom. Always.