Yesterday I got a bug to declutter, and went through old correspondence. In it were all the cards and letters she wrote from that time, and earlier. A rabbit-themed fold-out birthday card for my 19th birthday--she said "I know, I know, you're 19, but I couldn't help myself." I loved that card.
Reading her writing now, with greater understanding and experience, is like having a conversation with her. I read her thanking me for a quilt I made her, how it kept her warm and loved. I read about the gifts I sent, with my mom's help, and I feel sure that she knew I loved her. And still do. I always mourned that we couldn't know each other as adults. But I trust that I will see her again, with her red hair restored.
|Eleanor, Frank Weston Bensen, Wikimedia Commons|
The card my Gram used most often