Dear Mema,

Its as if I only get truly sad about you not being here when I uncover a memory not thought about since before you died. Its like I can only get really sad and rerealize your death when I found a stone/moment unturned. I just remembered how you would always introduce me to all your friends before church on sundays, and how proud you seemed (in a bragging grandmotherly way). Almost a year has gone by and I wish I could tell you all the new installments in my life that you would want to tell your friends. Its weird to think that you never knew about my crew accomplishments, and where I work now, and where I am going to go to college. It is superficial, but it makes me really happy knowing how proud you were.

I do miss you, and I worry that my memory of you will fade into the few stories that are repeatedly told. The memory of you and the realization that you are unhuggable only seems fresh when I am able to think of a very specific moment together. I love hearing other’s stories about you, but we are creating an image of you post mortem not because it was necessarily as true but because it is easy to only remember certain stories. Their memories are not mine. I don’t want to write you off as a possible story to write a college essay with, but that is the easiest way to remember you.