The last time I saw you was over Christmas. You were not yourself; you were unhappy, tired and in pain. I have decided not to remember you this way, but rather at your best, which is, really, how you truly were.
There are some things that immediately come to mind: your long, painted fingernails and the way you would drink your entire glass of wine at the end of the meal.
Our special lunches together at Howard Johnson’s downtown; toasted fried clams for me and you’d spilt a club sandwich with Katherine, followed by dessert at Swenson’s. Later, when we were older, it was always crêpes at The Magic Pan.
I’ll always remember when you made the deal with me at The Nutcracker one Christmas, you’d quit smoking if I stopped sucking my thumb.
You won’t be there for a lot that I know you were looking forward to like my wedding and your wish for great-grandchildren. But you were there for so much more, so many holidays, birthdays, graduations, that, for every milestone to come, your presence will be felt and they won’t be the same without you.
I will think about you often and remember you forever.