Status: Active; aiming for one update each day
30 Letters, 30 Days
A deceased person I wish I could talk to
Dear Gran
I'm so sorry about everything. You couldn't help who you were and what you thought of the world around you, and I should've realised it sooner.
I hated you. Well, actually for the last few years I thought I did. Now I'm realising that I actually didn't. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a teenager after all, my mum was right. I was taking on someone else's offence.
I remember time when I was little, sitting out the back at your house in Hawks Nest. You would teach me to paint, I was the only great grandchild allowed to touch your supplies, or go into your studio. I remember running to show Pop my masterpieces, as you said. He was always in the shed. I remember riding with you on the gogomobile. But I don't think it was really called that, was it? You would let me steer, but we could never leave the street, no matter how much I begged. I remember playing with the shells you'd collected from your many trips to the beach. They're at Mormor and Fuff's now, Riley and I were playing with them the other day. I remember you telling me to hold them to my ear, and when I heard the ocean, I would quickly hand them to you, so you could hear it too. I remember feeding the chickens, and clutching your hand whenever they came near me. You would just laugh, but never let me leave the coop until you were ready. You always were a stubborn and headstrong woman.
You were stubborn, even up to your death, weren't you? Ninety, it was the milestone no-one in your family had reached. But you did, you proved everyone wrong. The family are saying you weren't aware enough to realise you made it, but I like... want to think you knew somehow.
You've only been gone for a bit over a week, but already the guilt is overpowering. The memories I mentioned before, they stop at around age eleven. After that there's nothing, I blocked out the following years, and the visits it brought. And I hate myself for that.
I wish I could tell you everything in this letter, that I took the opportunity before it was too late. Actually, I wish I could've just said goodbye. But I guess I'm like you in more ways than I realised, stubborn and strong-willed.
I love you Gran, and I'm sorry. I'll miss you.
From your great granddaughter,
Claire
I'm so sorry about everything. You couldn't help who you were and what you thought of the world around you, and I should've realised it sooner.
I hated you. Well, actually for the last few years I thought I did. Now I'm realising that I actually didn't. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a teenager after all, my mum was right. I was taking on someone else's offence.
I remember time when I was little, sitting out the back at your house in Hawks Nest. You would teach me to paint, I was the only great grandchild allowed to touch your supplies, or go into your studio. I remember running to show Pop my masterpieces, as you said. He was always in the shed. I remember riding with you on the gogomobile. But I don't think it was really called that, was it? You would let me steer, but we could never leave the street, no matter how much I begged. I remember playing with the shells you'd collected from your many trips to the beach. They're at Mormor and Fuff's now, Riley and I were playing with them the other day. I remember you telling me to hold them to my ear, and when I heard the ocean, I would quickly hand them to you, so you could hear it too. I remember feeding the chickens, and clutching your hand whenever they came near me. You would just laugh, but never let me leave the coop until you were ready. You always were a stubborn and headstrong woman.
You were stubborn, even up to your death, weren't you? Ninety, it was the milestone no-one in your family had reached. But you did, you proved everyone wrong. The family are saying you weren't aware enough to realise you made it, but I like... want to think you knew somehow.
You've only been gone for a bit over a week, but already the guilt is overpowering. The memories I mentioned before, they stop at around age eleven. After that there's nothing, I blocked out the following years, and the visits it brought. And I hate myself for that.
I wish I could tell you everything in this letter, that I took the opportunity before it was too late. Actually, I wish I could've just said goodbye. But I guess I'm like you in more ways than I realised, stubborn and strong-willed.
I love you Gran, and I'm sorry. I'll miss you.
From your great granddaughter,
Claire