I don't really remember you.
I know you were my dad's sister
more than thirty years his senior
and you cared for him like a mother
when he lost his mother and father
before he had even entered college.
You were there for him
even though he was only your half-brother.
You and your husband took care of him.
I'd like to thank you for that
if you're up in heaven watching.

I had met you a few times.
We used to take trips to your house.
I vaguely remember a blue room
but I refuse to ask my dad about it
because I don't want to find out
that it is just an imagination.
I remember seeing you on Thanksgiving
the first time since you broke your hip
and you couldn't remember anything at all.
I must've remembered you then
because I noticed the difference.

I remember that I was scared
and I couldn't handle it
You couldn't even respond to a question
I remember you saying something
about how by the time you remembered
how to say what you wanted to
you had forgotten what you wanted to say.
It broke my heart to see you like that
and to see the sadness in my dad's eyes.
You meant so much to him.
Probably more than you ever knew.

At your memorial service
I saw my dad cry
for the first time in my life.
Everyone had stories to tell
they were all so sweet
and not fake either.
Talking about what a really great person you were.
How appropriately you were named.
I really wish I remembered more of you Aunt Grace.
I wish that you hadn't lost your memory
and we could've known each other better.

I wish that I hadn't been so scared.
I didn't go to Thanksgiving dinner with my dad the next year
and I stayed with my mom
because I didn't want to see you
and all the pain you were suffering.
I didn't know that I would never see you again.
If I had I would've found the courage
to go and visit.
I really wish I hadn't lost all my memories
that I remembered more about you, but I don't.
All I really have is that blue room, fictional or not.