Yesterday morning as I was rummaging through my closet looking for something to wear, my eye caught the picture that hangs next to the window, right beside the closet.
Instead of having a guest book at our wedding, Jason and I took a white photo frame and a marker and asked everyone to sign it. That way we could have it hanging on the wall.
Our wedding was small. The mat inside the frame is an 8x10.
And there on the side, clearly, was my grandmother's name.
I miss her.
A few months after our wedding we went to Virginia to celebrate her 90th birthday. Everyone was there; all of her family came. She asked Jason and I how were were enjoying married life. Despite the fact that we had a huge argument on the way to Virginia, we told her it was good.
Because, you know, it was good. Even when it's bad it's still good.
She smiled, sort of wistfully, and said,
"It must be good to not be alone. It's so hard to be alone."
My grandfather had been dead for nine years at that time. I can't imagine how lonely she was.
I hope she's not lonely now.
Even if I am, because she's gone.