Gone

This morning I received news that my Grandmother (who I call Farmor) passed away. We're lucky that my dad and I had gone to visit her yesterday. I kind of knew that it would be one of the last times I got to see her. Now I've been trying to come up with words all morning, and nothing is coming. All I can say is that she died months ago, and what we visited was barely more than a shell. I remember when she lived by herself, and was always bustling around to get dinner prepared while she insisted that everyone else sit down and relax. She always aimed to please, and she never failed. I've written poems and stories about her, about how she was so independent, how she moved from Sweden to Canada and raised her four kids almost by herself. But now that she's gone, I find that all inspiration has vanished too. So I'll just end by saying that I'll miss her, but the grieving started the moment she took the downturn in December. She wasn't the Farmor I remember after that.