This morning as I was driving my kids to school, a memory came to me, so vivid that I could have crashed my car because it felt as if I was in the moment. Driving home from Navy Pier with my grandmother, after having seen Henry VIII at the Shakespeare theater, she was singing in the car. In my head this morning I swear I heard her voice. I don't even know what she was singing - and didn't that night - but I could hear the joy in her voice as she sang.
That memory brought me to tears this morning. It's been a year and a half since she passed, and every day I still think about calling her. At least half a dozen times I've almost bought things for her, only to be hit again with the fact that she's gone.
A few days ago I was telling Daimean a story about her, and he told me that he's jealous because he never really got to know her. When she was in the hospital he'd offered to write her memoirs, because he was absolutely fascinated by her stories. That thought still makes me smile.