It’s been over a decade now since we had lunch together, or played checkers, or watched television. Time here passes differently (wherever here is), but I know for you it has seemed a long while. A third of your lifetime. And so I am writing you – those with much more knowledge than I have assured me this letter would make it to you one way or another.
You know, even though I had a son, you were my only grandson and that’s different than a granddaughter. I knew what to do with your sisters but not with you – at least not at first. We would play games but you’d end up throwing the board across the room when you lost (can I help it if I was good at games?) and you are always fighting with your sisters. But still we had fun, and after they both went off to school, it was just the two of us, things were easier – at least they were for me.
I enjoyed our talks and meals, and finding you little treats here and there. And I’m glad you felt you could talk to me, even if you thought you couldn’t talk to anyone else in the world. After my own sister died, I was glad you were around so much. Passing hours with you was much more pleasant than passing them alone. Thanks for spending so much time on an old lady. I hope your life is turning out exactly as you had wished. And if it isn’t, don’t give up hope.