HOW TO KEEP TALKING (Rituals for Remembering)
BY AYALA MARTIN | DESIGN BY SARAH LANE
WHEN I THINK OF MY GRANDAD, I THINK OF THE QUIET HOURS JUST BEFORE DAWN.
He and I were the only ones awake, rising at 6 a.m. to make cinnamon-sugar toast and coffee, then settling in to watch the news and complain about the price of gas. It became our small ritual—a little routine that belonged just to us. I half-hated waking up that early, but something about those mornings made the loss of sleep feel like a small price to pay. Looking back, I realize those hours did more for me than I could have known at the time. They lifted me from the heaviness I was carrying, offering a break from the quiet sadness I struggled with as a teenager. I think he sensed it too, even if we never said it aloud. His way of helping wasn’t through big speeches but through showing up, every single morning, with toast, coffee, and companionship. But we both knew what was coming. One morning, as we watched the news, he gently told me his wishes— that his ashes be spread somewhere in his hometown in Montana, and that I not cry for him but instead celebrate his life. It was a simple request, but it stayed with me. When he passed, I kept my promise (well, one of them—the tears were inevitable).
And when I was done crying, I wrote. I filled pages with memories…the time he took me fishing even though girls usually weren’t “allowed,” the way he rolled up his sleeves just so, and, of course, our mornings together…
I miss him. How could I not? And when those early mornings come back to me, I smile — and I feel close to him again.
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