It’s been too long since I’ve written here, Gram. This year was insane. I’m glad you didn’t have to witness it all, it would have been too much, with the election, COVID19... However, I am also so sad I didn’t have you here physically by my side through it. 
I miss you so much. Everyday. I still think about you all the time. I kissed to the sky when I finished this semester with a 4.0 again. I know you would be so proud. Sometimes it gets to heavy and I want to scream or lay in bed all day. Sometimes I do. 
I have so much I would like to write to you and I’m almost upset at myself for letting 9 months pass without a word. I miss you. So much. Speedy, I’ll come write again.  

Hey Gram! Miss you so much. Just stopping by here to tell you I got a tattoo today of a lightning bolt with your birth year in it. We’re gonna connect it to my black out and flowers with carnations. My speedy ❤️ Glad to finally have a part of you painted on me. Mom misses you too. She told me during my visit. You are so loved, gram gram.
And always will be.

Hard day today, Gram. However, thought of you and how you would want me to try and turn it around. I tried and it was totally worth it. Still rough, but worth it. Thank you for reminding me to be as strong as you were through little memos I carry close and have laying around. I miss you speedy. 


Hey. One full year tomorrow. 
If I could get the image of your sunken face, swollen hands, lifeless in the hospital, out of my head, I could properly manage my feelings. 
Or if you were here. 
I’m sorry, Speedy. I know this isn’t how you want me to feel, but I am still learning how to grieve, how to process, and how to live life without you.
It doesn’t get easier.
It becomes different.

Got your bear today, Gram. It’s made with the red and blue plaid night gown you always wore. It also has a heart button sewn on! Mom brought it up to the house after watching our roller derby double header last night. You would be so proud of me. I am so strong now, still healthy, two years post-gastric sleeve today, 1 year and 1 month cigarette free, and kickin’ butt. It shows when I skate. Mom and I have a really nice relationship now. It was really good to see her. Wish you were here to come up for a game too. I suppose you did, in bear form. Now you can keep grandpa company. His bear is a little more worn out now, but you two look good together, as always. I miss you so much speedy. It still hasn’t gotten easier. 

Merry Christmas, speedy. I can’t get you off my mind this whole month. I have spent most of today thinking about waking you up in bed every Christmas morning so we may open presents, eat challah bread French toast, and start our mellow holiday traditions. This morning I could not eat the French toast here, not one Sinatra song played for us to sing and paint to, and you were not here to wake up for presents. Although I do believe you have left me one gift for today. I am one year cigarette free. Thank you for that inspiration and support, grandma. I wish we could celebrate it together. I miss you so so so much.

I want to tell you how everything has changed. How well I’m doing, about it all. My college softball scholarship, my straight A’s, roller derby, my partnership, everything. You would be so proud. I wish I was the person I am now, back then. I am having a hard time forgiving myself for not being 100% this person with you. You were so amazing, genuine, and your love was unconditional. I am having a hard time forgiving myself for being mediocre me. 
I miss you speedy. 

I am missing you terribly. If I could wish for one thing that would come true right now it would be just an hour of time with you. I just want an hour to go to Michaels, tell you about everything I am accomplishing, how proud mom and dad even are, and pick out birdhouses and boxes while I hold your hand and tell you how much I love and miss you. I would give anything to replace one bad day we’ve had with a trip to the dollar tree, or a day crafting at the dining room table. I would put anything in my life on hold right now to show you that I wish I would have been just a fraction more patient with you. I practice my patience the most, every day. It’s definitely not easy, but you would be proud. I love you so much, Speedy. I hope you knew that even when you couldn’t remember anything else.

OBITUARY

Elaine Marilyn Lasky

June 28, 1932 – January 30, 2019

Bailey Memorial

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