It's been 8 months, 10 days.
The emptiness and longing to hear those words flow merrily from her lips. Overwhelming.
But I'm not sad. I had 28 beautifully written years with her. I am ever grateful to just have known her.
God picked the dearest and loveliest flower in His garden. For a season, I withered in sorrow as the shade that so tenderly comforted me was now gone.
It's sunnier these days. You may occasionally catch me drooping as the sun bears down in remembrance of her absence. But I no longer surrender to despair.
As a butterfly alights upon a flower in full bloom, so do the memories of my Grandmother flutter about the garden she curated.
It's been 8 months, 10 days. In memory of Mu...