With Love

I miss my grandma. There's no way around it. When the holidays approach I pretend I'm through crying. But then tonight I was going through some old pictures. I was looking for a gag gift picture, and then all of the sudden, a picture I don't even remember having or putting in that pile at all appeared. When I saw it, tears rushed to my eyes. It was me in front of a Christmas tree, five years old, and my grandmother sitting behind me looking down on me like an angel. Coincidence? Maybe, but I must admit, there are times I feel she's here. One time I was reading a book and just as I read something about being an artist and feeling supported and what it means for family to stand behind you, a rainbow dusted itself over the page and its light highlighted that sentence. She always loved my stage self, my active and creative and funny self. She would look at me with such adoring eyes and she would ask me to sing something or she would ask me later when I was in college "are you going to be on TV?". She had a hard time finding the words to say I love you, but you just knew she did, because, well, because she's my grandma. I guess I wish I could tell her Merry Christmas and that we think about her often and we are doing just alright. Then again, I bet she knows.