My grandmother was an amazing woman. I called her Poppy. No one really knows why I called her Poppy but it is the name that stuck and nearly everyone in her life eventually wound up calling her Poppy instead of her given name which was Emily. Poppy was the light of my life. From the moment I can remember I adored her. I spent nearly every summer with Poppy and Popo, my grandpa, from an early age. It was possibly the highlight of my year when school was out and I got to go see my grandparents and cousins in Massachusetts. Poppy and Popo were so good to me. They did not spoil me rotten, but they did. What I mean is that they did not shower me with "things" but they showered me with love and attention. They were the best grandparents I could have asked for. Sure, we had tough moments. Poppy and I fought often as I grew into my teenage years. But the memories I have of those summers are some of the best in my life. Popo left us when I was 12. That was my first experience with real loss. I still miss him.

Poppy eventually moved to Georgia to live with my Mom and I am thankful that I had those years to spend with her. She was active and made a new life for herself down here with us southerners. It could not have been easy after living most of her life up north and suddenly moving here in her 80's. When my husband and I moved back from California to GA with our newborn baby girl, I was able to spend some amazing moments with Poppy and for that, I will ever be grateful. Poppy left us nearly two years ago at the age of 93. She lived a wonderful, full life with many of us who loved and admired her. I think of her every single day. Sometimes it hits me at the strangest moments and I want to call her. When I realize that I can't talk to her, it still hurts like a fresh wound. It just goes to show that no matter the age, when someone leaves us, the loss is still felt. I love you so much, my Poppy. Always always.....