This destruction was necessary. After her death, her century-old house was unfit for renovation. Logically I understand. Still it hurts.
Fortunately I can combat my sorrow at this passing. Most of my arsenal comes from being one of the luckiest people on the planet. For I was bequeathed a supreme collection. Memories.
So in my mind, the house is as it was, and I see Grandma in the kitchen offering me a container of her homemade cookies acting like it is a favor to her for me to take them home to my family. My mind stretches further back. I am a child sitting around the red bow and bird trimmed Christmas tree. Grandma sits smiling with her work worn hands finally still in her lap and Grandpa puts on a Santa hat and grins mischievously as he decides who of my cousins gets the next gift. Recollections stream rapidly one after another.
You see, I have the greatest inheritance a granddaughter could have. My memories are rich and numerous. Not only was I loved, and felt adored, even more, I knew I was treasured.
I will forever be grateful for such a legacy.