Dear Diary,
Not even 48 hours ago my grandmother June died. I don’t believe it though, it seems to,
unreal, I think is the best word to use. Even though her body just gave out, it feels as if her
soul has been gone for a while. I found this old Photograph of her; she’s young, around my
age with dark brown hair, she was so beautiful just sitting there on the hill. Yesterday was
windy; to me it was that girl in the photograph, spinning, running, and laughing. No oxygen
tank, no pain, no cares. The wind was her dancing over me, she’s watching over me. I was
her Pretty Girl, her youngest granddaughter, and now, she’s gone, and I don’t believe it.
I love you Grandma,
Pretty Girl, xoxo
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