I feel like when we think of grandmothers, we think of those sweet little old ladies who silently slip us cookies when our parents aren’t watching. We think of warm hugs and safe places.
This is not who my grandmother was. Although she was little (my brother and I christened her ‘little grandma’).
I know, without a doubt, that my grandma loved me in her own way. To this day, there is still a part of my heart that grieves for the relationship we didn’t have. But I am thankful for what we did have. My grandmother loved crossword puzzles. I know this is where I received my love of words. She loved to do crafts. This helped to spark my own creativity.
And when she died and I did not cry, it didn’t mean that I didn’t love her.
It just meant that my grief was like our relationship; different.
STORY TIME: Grieving My Grandmother syndicated post
Stephania Hatchett News 