Dear Nana,

You’re sick. You have been sick for a while. I just assumed that you would always get better because, in my mind, that is what I want to happen. Sometimes, I really do think that you have gotten better: you eat dinner with the family and you dress up to go to church just like you always do. Still, I know better than to think that is the case.

I have sat with you at the hospital, slept in a cramped grey chair, stale air conditioning causing you to shiver. I have watched the coffee you drink go cold as you go through the breathing treatments every four hours just to keep your lungs clear. I have watched you go from walking upright to a cane, and now to a walker. At one time, you could breathe on your own, but now a machine follows us round to all of your doctors’ appointments.

Even so, you remain as bright as ever. A trait I find myself desperate to attain in this bleak time. You make the phone calls to all of your friends. You make beautiful art. You tell your wonderful and exciting stories of your travels to anyone who darkens your doorway. You uplift the people we hold dear in both our physical and spiritual family. I cannot count the number of times that you have been called beautiful- despite your wrinkles and bruises from the shots. You have the biggest heart- loving all fifteen of your grandchildren equally and giving us gifts every chance that you can. You have loved me through all of the years of my growth, gently guiding me in a way that only you can. You tell me of my grandfather, who you had lost to sickness decades before my birth. You make jokes and bring light to our home.

I want to tell you that I love you. I am so thankful for all you have done for me. Even though our time together is starting to draw, I want you to continue to fight as you have been doing for the past three years. I want the rest of the days you have been given to remain happy and bright as they have been before. Even though I tell you I love you every night with a kiss on your forehead, I want you to know that these are not empty words. I will continue to look to you for guidance, love, and joy in whatever road lies ahead of us. You can do it, Nana. Your family is behind you and the Lord is before you, wherever we are led, together, we will go without fear.

With the deepest love,

Annalyn