The mama of my own mama. The mama of her older sister, the mama of my aunt. The grandma to her own babies first born son, the grandma to her babies baby. My grandma.
I love you for a million more reasons than the fact that you're my Grandma, for the fact that you loved me from the moment you knew I would come to be, and never stopped loving me since. I love you for the way your hugs enveloped me, for the way you always smelled just like my Grandma. I love you for the way you bickered with Grandpa, usually from the kitchen while he sat in his chair. I love you for the laugh you would joyfully bellow while I yelled out "stop fighting!" Oh, how much did I have to learn in life, would you think? I love you for the way you wrapped your arms around us, held us close, tucked us in at night and woke us up in the morning. I love you for the way you made us bologna sandwiches each summer and how we would laugh over the way bologna was spelled. I love you for the many french toasts you would make over the years we had together, never too tired or unwilling to make your grandchildren smile a bit. I love you for so many reasons that I wish I could still be loving about you today, but in many ways, I am - always have been, always will be.
The fire that runs through each of the Wilson women started with you, and makes me proud to be your granddaughter. The generosity that both Connie and mom hold deep in their bones comes from you. The selflessness that mom oozes out of her was learned from watching her own mama, you, be the best mama and grandma. If I can be a fraction of the daughters you raised, I'll be doing alright.
When you moved to Bellville, just a skip and a hop across the neighborhood from our house to your new one, I had all the plans. I was planning to come over after school each day. I was planning to sit with you, to learn more about the life my grandma led, to ask you all of the questions I wanted to know the answers to. I had all of the intentions to spend as much time with my Grandma as possible before it was too late, as I had learned by then that a "too late" would always come for each of us as some point. But then two days later it was already too late. Two days later you were in the hospital in pain and it was too late from there. I've missed those conversations we never got to have. I've missed those moments where I never got to learn more about you, straight from your own mouth. I can hear your voice right now. I miss those hugs and kisses hello and goodbye that we never got to continue on, with you just a hip and a skop across the neighborhood from us. I miss it all, I miss you, and in a way, you taught me then, for the second time in a short, hard two years, the importance of saying "thank you and I love you" when you have the chance.
So thank you, Grandma, and I love you. So so much (with each "so" underlined twice, just like every card I ever have from you).