Dear Granny,

Dear Granny,

Why does it feel like you never left?

Missing you is this strange sensation of you're gone, but you're not. I don't know what to do with this. I'm grateful, but still perplexed.

I often wonder what you'd say to me today. I wonder what your face would've looked like on graduation day. What would have been easier for me... or harder.

Would moving away to discover home outside of Richmond Heights had been an option for me? Would the definition of home be different for me? Would I be as intuitive and independent? Would I appreciate my history in the same way?

Everything you told me... Well, I don't know if it's everything. Some of what you taught me has been very potent.

Since you've been gone I've learned a lot about our heritage. We come from a long line of women. Black women. Women who survived the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Strong black women, weak black women. Joyful black women and depressed black women. Black women with established careers and black women who lost their jobs. They pressed on to see what the end was gonna be.

And so will I.

I love you, Jazzy