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I had intended to move on and write about some of the things that happened today, but re-reading my post about my cousin's visit, I started thinking about grandma again. While Craig (the cousin) was here, he made the remark that she was "very loved". That is an understatement. I wish I had a photo of her I could scan and post. I am sure that is why I love talking to and taking photos of the old Japanese ladies of the village. Tomoe says I must have an old-lady fetish, but I know it is just because I loved grandma so much and they remind me of something I miss and don't want to forget. One of the things that makes me cringe in regret is that I was so far away for the years before she died, and that I had been so delinquent in writing to her. I had letters piled up in my drawer that I never sent. I had been planning a short video walk-through of my life in Japan that I never got around to.

I know she knew how much I loved her. I know she was happy that I was living the life I wanted to. Still, I wish I would have shared more with her, expressed more to her.

I remember the feeling of her hands on my cheeks as I tried to wriggle away in embarrassment. What a stupid reason. What a wonderful memory.

I have never wanted to just hug someone more than I want to hug her now.

Comments

Hi! I have to say I love your blog. I been secretly reading it for 2 months now and since I´m in Japan myself on an internship, I just wanted to know if you have any good spots in Japan that is worth visiting and thats a little bit off the charts.

I only have 3 weeks of travel after my internship before I go back to Sweden, so if you just would give me a hint where to go that would be great.

keep up the good work with your blog btw.
peace!

Aye, I lost my last grandparent earlier in the year. As an uncle said at the graveside "another chapter closes". He was right. It isn't the same now.

I think of my nephews and nieces and the relationship they have with my parents.

No hugs on the go here, but a wee dram is now called for. To paraphrase: "who's like them? Damn few, an' their all deid". Slainte.

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