I grew up in my Grandfather’s house, for the most part, with short periods of living with Mom and her husbands du jour. My Grandma died within three years of her beloved Walter. I was in my twenties, had a husband and children of my own. We lived in another State, had no money, and I missed her last years as well as her funeral.

My children are older now and I actually have time for hobbies; the newest is Genealogy. While putting together Grandma’s branches of our tree, I came upon things I had not even known as they happened. The death of her youngest brother, whom she adored, moved me to tears.

I earn my living now as a writer and teach writing to college students. I decided tears were not enough and sat down and wrote a proper letter of condolence to my Grandma, Zoe.

If there is someone or something you would like to get off your heart or your shoulders, wherever you carry your burdens, trust me: it is never too late.

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