The (bad) granddaughter.

There's a lot of things I'll never know about you. Like your favourite color, or food, what kind of music you liked, or even your birthday.
There are some things that I do know, like you liked keeping the house clean and hated mess, like you liked knitting and doing crosswords and taught me to do them so. Like you were a deeply hurt woman, but an independant one too.
I'll always try to remember what I know about you, even when right now I can't quite remember when you died 'cause I didn't look at the date that day. All I know, it was a tuesday, but I heard from it on saturday so what point did it meant by looking on the date? You were dead already.

Stupid.

I'm sorry grandma. You weren't actually my grandma, but you were to me. Dad always taught me to tell you grandma and you deserve that title. I'm the one who doesn't deserve being called your granddaughter.
I'm sorry for leaving you.
I'm sorry for not asking about you when I should have.
I'm sorry for not visiting you.

I wanted to ask about you after it happened, but what point did it meant? You were dead already.

Stupid.

I'd always thought that people die close to their birthdates. I can't remember you die-date or your birthdate, but I know this. Today is Mary Auxiliatrix's day. Maybe you were named after her if you were born on a May 24th, or maybe you weren't. But I kinda have that idea on my mind, so I'm just gonna follow it.

Happy birthday grandma.
I'm really sorry about everything. I cried a lot when I heard, and still cry when I remember, but why does it matter?
You are dead already.