What memories did you take with you to Heaven last night, which dreams? I wonder. Is there a piano there for you to play?
I remember your small apartment: plastic on chesterfield. And trinkets (dusted twice weekly) sparkling on preordained shelf.
I remember photographs as well: you amongst sisters in all shades of grey.
You loved food as I do; but you were more dainty about it. Your house always smelled of fresh rye bread and melted butter.
You always were quick to laugh too: you encouraged me even if you were discouraged to do so.
I love you: say hello to grandma!