Tyler and I began planning the wedding. Grandma had opinions about every detail, which meant she called me nearly every other day. I treasured every call.
Four months later, she was gone.
A heart attack—quick and quiet—in her own bed. The doctor told me she likely hadn’t felt much.
I tried to find comfort in that, then drove to her house and sat at her kitchen table for two hours without moving because I didn’t know how to exist without her.
Grandma Rose was the first person who had ever loved me completely and without condition. Losing her felt like losing gravity itself, as if nothing would remain steady without her anchoring it all.
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