Dear Grams,

Listen. I don't know where you've gone. Or why you left us. I don't know how long ago. Or how close. But i know your not here. I know you can't breathe the same air as us. Or none at all. I know we all miss you. And we crave you here. And for some reason we look for charms flowing in the wind making a sound and consider that a sign of your presence. I know it was in January. I know I was home. I know I didn't get to say goodbye. I know I blame myself. I know I'm not the only one crying. And I know for some reason , even after all these years, you pop back into my mind like my first love. And maybe you'll never hear this. And maybe your not watching down on me. And maybe you don't remember me. But, the few things I remember of you are so distinct. But they will disappear one day. And that's not my fault. But I just wanted to remind you. To remind you that I hope your proud. Of me, of grandpa, of your daughters, of your son and your grandsons and granddaughters. Because without you here we are different. Differently struggling throughout different streets. But we all hope one thing, and we hope you are proud.