Strange to lose someone who has loved you your whole life.
Since I've known how to talk, I've called her Bubba. No one knows exactly why I gave her that name, but I never
called her grandma. She was the first person my mother let hold me. In moments when she was proud of me (earning blue ribbons in a potato sack race, getting my ears pierced), or in moments I was sad (wrecking my Powder Puff Bigwheel, my first love breaking my teenage heart, my Papa dying), Bubba held me close to her, rubbed my cheek with her hand, whispered in my ear,
"You know, I was the first one to hold you."
Overall, what I feel is lucky.
I think in some ways Bubba will always be holding me.
