I’m sorry for not fully accepting your love—
Apology letter to my grandmother.
It was a time where I cherished those weekend drives from Mobile to Pensacola, to visit you and Granny Gran. Walking into your home always brought me comfort—a sense of safety wrapped in the scent of your perfumes, reminiscent of a Sunday Baptist church service.
You and granny gran were gospel singers and pianists.. I loved hearing y’all sing hymns and play keys. I remember faintly sitting in the piano room when I was younger, listening as you both tried to teach me. I had adhd though and couldn’t focus long enough to learn,
but I loved being near y’all and hearing the music fill the room.
I remember staying overnight at the house, where my sisters would gravitate toward great-grandma’s room across the hall. But I stayed with you. You’d let me smell your favorite perfumes, dress me in your church hats, and hold me tight as we watched movies I can’t even remember. You’d read scriptures to me as I fell asleep in your arms.
We were so close—until we weren’t.
When I was around 12, something shifted.
I stopped understanding you.
You treated me like I was still that little girl, the one who was captivated by your world. But I was growing up—I was becoming a teenager, then an adult—and I resented that you couldn’t see it.
I started to avoid you, blinded by my frustration and unable to recognize that holding onto that little girl in me was your way of loving me.
I didn’t see it until you were gone.
It’s January 25, 2025, and it just truly hit me that you’re no longer here. I can’t start over, and I can’t get back the time I wasted pushing you away….
I wish I had hugged you more. I wish I had accepted your forehead kisses, answered your phone calls, and embraced the way you loved—even if it wasn’t the way I expected.
This is my apology for not accepting you in those last few years. I regret not coming home for the holidays, not being there to share those moments…
You know, your scent follows me… I don’t search for it cause it finds me. I even picked up piano last year and can’t help but wish I had learned from you when I had the chance.
I wish I had gone to more church services with you, because your love for God was something truly special.
I know that on August 23, you walked into heaven singing “I’m home” (just how Mariah Carey sings, “It’s Time,” every year around Christmas) and with the biggest smile.
Grandma—Dorothy, I miss you, and I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t accept your love while I had the chance.
peace.
Awwn this so beautiful