Dear Gram,

Dear Gram,

Today, it's been 3 years.

3 years since you were here.

3 years since Courtney, Stacy and I went to get you ice-cream.

3 years since the infamous July where we spent a month in the hospital, all together, taking over conference rooms for weeks at a time.

Getting calls in the middle of the night hearing you weren't going to make it through the night. Or through the day.

To rush to the hospital. To have to leave work. To have your last rites read to you.

And then, in true you fashion, to have you be sitting up in bed 8 hours later ordering your lunch for the next day.

That month brought our family together in a way that we hadn't been before. It brought the cousins together. It created a bond that cannot and will not be broken.

It's been 3 years and one week since you held my hand and asked me "Is it ok if I don't die this week?" as if it was going to mess up my plans.

It was the last thing you said to me before you were moved to hospice.

And one week later, you were gone. Almost to the minute.

It's been three years, and so much has changed. You have more great-grand-children. You are gaining another grandson through marriage with Courtney. Your grandkids are continuing and furthering their families, and their educations. We are growing and changing; but we are maintaining and taking care of each other in ways you would love.

You never got to meet JM. Grandpa seems to be impressed, but I wish you could have met him still. You would have loved him. (He's warm, too!) And he's smart. And he takes good care of me. He's respectful, and loves spending time with Grandpa when he's back in Rochester with me. He's a good fit with the family.

I know that no matter what, you are looking out for all of us, in each of our paths.

But it doesn't make me miss you any less every day.

I miss you, and I love you.

-Whitney