My grandmother died one month ago today. And I can’t, I can’t stop thinking about it. I refused to say goodbye to her, I felt like I failed her. I failed her all these years, I always avoided her, because I’m selfish, I’m awful, I’m a horrible person. I never said I loved her, I never held her hand all those times she reached out for me. And now it’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late…
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It’s not too late, she knew that you loved her, even though you didn’t say it. I was in the same shoes as you, but that changed for me when I finally visited her sister that live quite a drive away, she told me that she spoke often about how much she knew I loved her even though I seemed to avoid her. She held on to the good times even if there wasn’t many of them.