Grandma's Yahrzeit

My grandmother's yahrzeit was this past week. It's been nineteen years, and the few memories that I had formed surrounding her are dimming. Most of what I know about her comes from stories about her, facts about her life, trinkets that she left behind. I wish I had kept those hunter green pajamas with white polka dots she gave me our last Chanukah together - if only to have something tangible left of her. The intangibles are many, but their vibrance is fading. Her voice is harder to recall now, as are her mannerisms, and the only habit of hers I remember is the naps she took every afternoon. However, her kindness will live on forever.