I know I write about this a lot, but in a lot of ways it has affected me more than I ever anticipated and probably even more than I admit. I didn't lose a biological grandmother, but I lost a grandma just the same. This was a woman who loved me, and in the way families often do, I never really appreciated as much as I wish I had. Now there's a lovely little girl who doesn't get to know the grandma I did; a little girl who deserves it so much more than I did. Perhaps it hurts so much because it was the second blow in only a few months, or perhaps because we knew it was coming. Whether we were admitting it or not, we all knew. This was the second-to-last time I ever saw Fran, we were visiting to celebrate her granddaughter's birth. I remember I was kind of distracted because I had spent the morning with another one of my favorite people who I knew I was losing (well at least I thought so at the time). Then after I got there I was more exited about baby Meredith than her grandmother. I'm not trying to be that melodramatic person saying "I should have appreciated more when I had the chance!" Sniffle. Sniffle. But, looking back, I didn't monopolize on the time I had, probably because in the back of my mind I knew it was coming to a close but didn't want to accept that. Anyway, I still miss you, Fran, and I wish I'd called you grandma more.