Meme, I am going to miss one hell of a lot. I’m going to miss you more than anything or anyone I have ever missed before. I’ll be Liza without her ball. I’ll be like Sally without her Soccer jersey. I’ll be Dad without his hammer. I guess I’ve grown so used to having you around that I never thought about what it would be like when you left. There must have been some voice in the back of my head, warning me that this day would come, and that I should enjoy the time I have left. But it wasn’t until I saw your home, now just a house, completely empty. The couch where we sat and laughed talked and watched every T.V. show imaginable was gone. The beds, where I hid under countless times were gone too. The pinecones, which used to cover each surface had departed. The fridge, my home away from home, which brought attracted all kinds of people was empty.
All those things took some part of me with them. Parts of me I had had in the past, maybe even the day before, were gone. I will never get those back. The part of me that couldn’t waited eagerly in those worn wooden chairs throughout my school for the day to end, because I knew my Grandmother would be outside waiting, with a doughnut or two. The part of me that laughed along with you as we watched the Ellen Show. The part of me that frantically searched for a substantial hiding place before you came out of the bedroom. The part of me, slightly frustrated but joyful none-the-less as I tried to show you how your I Pad worked. The part of me that hid below the dashboard as you yelled “Hey!” to each person who walked by. I’ll never have that back. I’m never going to see that ‘me’ ever again.
I may be a changed person because you are leaving, but let’s not focus on that. Let’s focus on how you changed me because you came, not left. I want to thank you for spending the last 7 years of your life with us out here. You have taught me so much. You’ve taught me fashion. You’ve taught me all about our family history. You’ve taught me how to the world in the best way possible. You’ve taught me how to do a Southern accent. You’ve taught me how to color. You’ve taught me how to be, if I ever wanted to, the friendliest person on Earth.
Like one songwriter said, I don’t know how to say goodbye, so I say hello. I say hello to a new chapter in my life. I say hello to having to bike all the way to our house instead of yours. I say hello to a life without you, Meme, Mary, Grandma, Double Me, in it. So instead of saying goodbye I say hello. Instead of crying because it’s finished, I smile because it happened. Instead of missing you, I’ll refuse to, but instead I’ll call you every single day until my phone doesn’t work anymore. There are some many things that I can look back on in the last 7 years and say how I wish I had done this or that. But instead, I need to say that this was a good run. How lucky I am to have someone that makes it so hard to say goodbye. So, thank you Meme. Thank you for everything. I love you so much Meme. Goodbye, Double Me.