Carry on, carry on ...
I've been thinking of my grandmother this morning. It makes me sad to think that I never really knew her, (we weren't on very intimate terms when I was growing up), and I don't think I ever understood (until I had some kids to take care of) how much she must have loved me. I honestly don't know whether to be happy for this understanding, or if it would have been easier to finish out my life thinking of her as she seemed to me then: a remote, unfeeling person. I can tell her now that I appreciate all she did for me, but there's no telling if it would mean anything to her.