Dear Granma,
When I talk to you, you are deep asleep and you don´t hear me. I want to tell you so many things but you don´t listen. You can´t. My words are tammed by the hospital room and my tears are swallowed by my cleavage when they are dripping from my chin. Holding your hand is not enough, for me. I want you to complain of anything! I want you to gossip on hospital personnel and hear your observations. But then I just cream your tense complexion with your favourite almond cream, also your hands need a bit of it, they are dry. The scar on your head is healing well but it needs a bit of some softening too. From time to time you wiggle your shoulder or foot and I eagerly wait for more movements to show me that you feel my touch. My 10-minute allotment is soon over but I am allowed to stay longer because we all believe our words and soft toouch will be good for you. Leaving the place, I wash my hands but the moment I need to blow my nose in the lift, I smell your cream - the cream you´ve been using for 50 years. The smell I will recognize anytime anywhere. I wash my hands at home, and again and again but the cream smell still persists on my fingers telling me that you are still here with us - sleeping.
I need you to be home for my birthday lunch next weekend. Sunday, around 11:30 ...this is your lunch time. You are always hungry by this time. I make sure we cook something of your favourites. Soup will be served too, of course!
I guess you had enough of sleep so please - come home back to us. We are waiting for you. Grandpa quit smoking, so awesome he is. We miss you so much.
Kisses,
Your loving granddaughter
