you died of a torn aorta on Saturday 7th March 2015. I didn’t get to say goodbye to you, and that’s my first apology. I’m not entirely sure you would’ve remembered me anyway – your memory was leaving you. I want you to know that you had family around you when you died; mum said that you knew people were there but you couldn’t do or say anything, you weren’t even conscious. She said it was a peaceful death. I don’t know if I believe that, because she wouldn’t ever tell me that it was a painful death. But I hope it was painless. I think you deserved that.
I’m sorry for saying that I didn’t like you behind your back. You never knew, obviously, and I don’t think you even knew why. You could be cruel at times. You called me and my cousin ‘fat’ and I think that might’ve just been because you were old. I’m sorry for hating you for that. It all seems so ridiculous now that I think about it. I spent more time telling my friends how much I hated you (I really didn’t) than thinking about how much I loved you. I cried a lot when mum phoned to say that you’d gone. We’d expected it (you were 90, after all) and I regretted ever saying that I hated you. I didn’t and it’s too late for me to say that.
Mum said you had a good life, too. You helped with WW2 and you had children, who in turn had their own children, one of which had me. I hope you’re with granddad. I never met your first husband but maybe you’re with him, too. I don’t know if I believe in heaven but I don’t think I could pretend I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll look after nan (your daughter) if I can. She’s always held it together so well and I don’t want to imagine her upset. I didn’t see you very often, and sometimes I dreaded it (which I’m sorry for, as well) but now I think I’ll dread not seeing you at Christmas, or when your next grandchild is born. I’m sorry you didn’t live to see him/her; if only he/she was born a few days earlier. I think it’s a girl, but we don’t know. I think you’d love her/him a lot, though.
I’m sorry for everything, and I love you. I didn’t know how to say all of this, and I hope you’re reading it somehow. I miss you.