Dear Grandpa Ray,
As we walked the edge of the garden this morning, my Mom reminded me just how special I was to you. She told me the story of how you were given only one month to live, having cancer, and the night my Mom told you she was pregnant, you decided the cancer was not going to win. Nine months later, the day I was born, was a bright sun-filled morning, and my Mom said the moment you held me, you lit up like the sun shining in the window. From that day forward you called me your little ray of sunshine.
As we walk along the gardens edge discussing what and where we would plant things this year, I found my tummy rumbling in anticipation of Mulligan stew. Your Mulligan stew is greatly missed. Mom and I try to re-create it every August, but we have decided that you took a special ingredient with you to the grave. Mom has created a football-sized garden, the neighbors think we are crazy, but we just smile as you did, and carry on tending the soil. We are out there every morning bright and early, just as you used to be.
Just the other day, we were going through pictures and we both started to cry. Your smile, jokes, and monster hugs are greatly missed. I wish I could have talked with you one last time before you decided to go to heaven to be with Grandma. I was so busy with my life in the city and just could not find the time to get back up to see you. I see things differently today: my time is spent with those whom I love dearly instead of trying to keep up with the Jones. I guess I thought you’d always be sitting on the rocking chair on the deck, sipping your tea, just waiting to tell me about your time at Pearl Harbor. I still remember the last time you held my hand and smiled, the sun’s rays were shining on us. We were dancing at my wedding; your graceful moves around the dance floor had every eye on us. Even at the ripe old age of 93 you could move and sing like Sinatra. You told me, “You will always be my little ray of sunshine, Lindsey Rae.” You were always there for me: when I needed someone to sit with me at age 5 when I was in the hospital, when I was 15 and you took me for my first road test, and at age 25 when you and my Dad walked me down the aisle.
I wish you were going to be at my graduation ceremony this spring. I am graduating with honors. My son will be there to watch me grab that piece of paper proudly and start the next stage of my life. I had a healthy, beautiful, little boy 21 months ago. I smile as he runs the dirt through his tiny fingers, and think to myself, you are a spitting image of your Great Grandpa Ray. I often wonder if it is you smiling down on us, as the rays from the sun erase the chill felt while in the garden early in the morning. I hope my son will be half the man you were. He loves to sit in the garden and enjoys helping organize the beans, eats tomatoes by the handful, and can’t get enough of the Mulligan stew we try so hard to re-create. I just wanted to tell you I am sorry I was not there for you at the end of your life, to hold your hand and comfort you in your darkest hour. I will always have a special place in my heart for you, and am reminded of what love is every time the sun shines down on me. You are my ray of sunshine, too, Grandpa Ray!
XOXO,
Your little Lindsey Rae, age 29
