Four Years

When my grandmother was still around,
I would go to church with her every Sunday.

I would hold her by the hand,
and proudly walk with her up to the priest,
so that she and I can receive communion.

The last day I ever stepped foot in that church
was when I carried her body out in a casket.

Four years.

It has been four years since my grandmother has passed away,
but it still feels like she died last night.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss her.