Slowly, I am thinking more about my grandmother. I think it hurt too much to look at photos or read her writing after she passed away. A few days ago, I read her last message and looked at a few pictures and it didn’t kill me. I listened to her voice, recorded on my phone, and I didn’t cry.
I packed up a bunch of pictures right after she passed away and they spilled in my car on the way home. Every few weeks I discover another picture I didn’t find when I cleaned things up. If I make a sudden stop, this tends to bring them out of their hiding places. It’s like I have been showered in pictures since she left us. She was a little mischievous and LOVED being surrounded by photos. I like to think she smiles as I find these happy old memories.