My grandmother died when I was six and I have always believed that she was the greatest women that ever lived. My mother would tell me stories of her, which made her larger than life it’s self. Her funeral is the most vivid memory that I ever had. Most children remember birthday, holidays, or vacation, not me, I remember her funeral and the days before she died. I remember her reaching to the heaven saying, “Take me now”. I remember the tradition Catholic funeral. Spending three days in a funeral home confused and watching them bury her into the ground. I have no memory of her while she was alive, just stories of how wonderful she was. I believe that she watches over me and protects me from all the stupid things I do. When I can’t sleep at night or had a terrible day she fills me with a warmth that everything is o.k. then I can be able to sleep. When I look up at sky, I can see her smiling at me, even when I do not deserve it. I miss you and I wish I could spent a little bite more time with you.

I wish you were still here,
Twiggy Krull