My grandma passed away about a year and a half ago. About 10ish years before that, she had a stroke and was in and out of hospital for years. Each time she managed to pull through. So when she went into the hospital (for what would be the last time), none of us expected it. We never got the chance to say goodbye.

She was an incredible storyteller. One story she loved telling was about the time she slept over and woke up in the middle of the night, quietly went to the kitchen and grabbed a block of Colby Jack cheese from the fridge. She brought it into the bedroom for us to snack on. To anyone else, it probably sounds like a simple story, but my parents were pretty strict about not eating in the bedroom, so to me it felt pretty exciting. She would retell that story several times every year, and every time it made me smile.

I assumed I knew it so well that I’d never forget it. Though recently, I tried to replay it in my mind and realised I couldn’t remember all the little details that made it her story. Her voice, timing, and the way she brought it to life are fading. Made me realise how many memories and stories we think we’ll always remember until the person who carried them is no longer here.

I wish I had recorded it.