Dear Grandma Bennett,
In the dictionary of my life, your photo is the one used in the entry for the word “love.” There is nobody else in the world who I ever felt more love from than you. Unconditional and unwavering.
Just a week-and-a-half before you died, you still took the time to call me up on Father’s Day. In your message you said you hadn’t been doing well lately and were sorry for missing my birthday a couple days prior. Of course you told me you love me. I wish I had caught that phone call. I wish I would have called you at any time during the previous couple of weeks when I was thinking that I should. I never got to hear about your trip to the U.K. I’m so glad you went, you deserved it.
As soon as I found out how bad you were doing, I booked a flight to come and see you. I guess you couldn’t wait for me. You once made me promise you that if you were old and senile and living in a rest home that I would come visit no matter how hard it was to see you like that. I actually feel good that it never came to living like that for you. I suspect that you would agree that it was best to go when you were still on top of your game.
Grandmas are arguably the most important people in the world. Their job is to lavish love on their grandchildren, to offer a sanctuary from the rigors of life. You fit that role so very well. In my mind you are the role model for grandmas the world over.
Thanks for taking me with your family to Disneyland when I was five. Thanks for making me cinnamon toast when I stayed with you in the summer and calling it “Johnny Toast.” Thanks for the Happy Meals. Thanks for letting me come with you to go pick Grandpa up from work. Thanks for including a little something for all of us kids whenever you would send birthday presents down to Cedar City. Thanks for the great Christmas presents that you couldn’t afford. Thanks for making the time to talk to me on every birthday and every Father’s Day.
I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life.
I love you,
John
