When I was a little girl, I spent the summers with my grandparents. I would leave my home the day after school ended, and stay with them until the day before school started. They lived in a secluded forest area in northern California, and I remember spending lots of time outside playing with their aussie Sheba, while my grandpa worked in the garage and my grandma worked in the garden. I remember watching game shows and soap operas with my grandma. I remember my grandma sneaking into bed with me at night because my grandpa’s snoring got too loud. Every morning she would make me what amounted to a chocolate shake for breakfast, adding an egg in so it would have some substance. Mostly, I remember how much they loved me and how much I loved being there with them.

My grandma was – by far – the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and think I’ll ever meet. I can’t even describe how kind, loving, compassionate, and selfless she was. I can only aspire to have a small fraction of the heart she had.

And I know she loved me more than anyone will ever love me. My father told me that when my mother was pregnant with me, my grandpa told him not to burden my grandma with babysitting duty after I was born. My dad agreed and complied, but within a month my grandpa came back asking him to please let my grandma watch me. My whole life she has been nothing short of ecstatic to see me or hear from me.

Last week my dad called me and told me that my grandma was in the hospital. She’d been having a lot of back pain recently, and my grandpa finally convinced her to go see a doctor about it. The doctor urged her to go to the hospital, and she must have been in a serious amount of pain because she agreed. She hated doctors, hospitals, all that type of stuff. She rarely complained about anything… never wanted anyone to worry about her.

They diagnosed her with stage 4 lung cancer among other things. We still haven’t gotten a full report except to say that it was very bad. They had no idea how bad it was – they didn’t even have her on any type of vital-stats monitoring equipment.

She passed away Monday evening.

I didn’t get the chance to see her or say goodbye, although I did see her over the Christmas holiday. She was happy and I watched her playing with my kids and laughing with them during the visit. One of the things that saddens me the most is that I know there is little chance that my kids will remember her. I wish I could change that more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

She didn’t want a funeral or any other services… just another example of how truly selfless she was. The last thing she would ever want is to cause anybody any problems. I really don’t know how I’d have gotten through it in one piece anyway.

But I still need to write this all down, to tell somebody about her and how much I loved her. I wish I could tell myself that she is in a better place now, but unfortunately I don’t believe in an afterlife. Trust me, right now I wish I did. It would ease the pain I think, but I am what I am and faith is one thing you can’t just decide to have.

In any case, whether she is gone completely or only in body, the world is a much better place having had her in it. My wish for all of you is to feel the kind of love and acceptance that I have felt. For that I can never thank her enough.