My Grandma Kept a Notebook Nobody Knew About

I slept.

That was the last entry.

No grand goodbye. No line tied with ribbon. Just tired.

I closed the notebook and sat there with my cold tea and the empty chair.

Then I got up, went to the kitchen, and made soup.

I chopped the onions wrong.

I heard her voice anyway.

If this hit a nerve, send it to someone who understands why showing up matters.

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