The Beginning of the End
This is my maternal grandmother.
She is, quite frankly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life. She passed away two months before my sixth birthday, but just in the short amount of time that I knew her, she made probably the biggest impression on me of any person in my life. She had a way of making you feel like you were the most important and only person in the room when she was talking to you. I have not in my nearly 30 years of life met another person with as much grace and kindness as she had nor have I ever met someone who could laugh like she did.
I don’t talk about her for many reasons, but mostly because it hurts too much, and as a result, I try not to think about her too much as well. However, Monday I thought about her. By the time my grandmother was 30 years old, she had the beautiful white hair you see in this picture. And Monday, I found a strand of white hair just like it on my own head. I nearly broke down in tears, and I think the only reason why is because I know without a shadow of a doubt that no matter how hard I try and no matter how much beautiful white hair I may have at the end of it all, I will never, ever be the wonderful woman that she was.