it's fascinating how a place can mean so much for the heart. how we find comfort in what's safe in our lives. grandma's place was always that, but I feel bad for not realizing until now, when it's really too late. the apartment is being emptied, "is there something that you want to hold on to?", and I can't help but to feel anxious. grandma wasn't just a person; she was a feeling, a home, and safe place, for more people over the years than anyone could guess and imagine. it makes me scared of the world that I and we won't have that in the future. but life goes on, doesn't it? memories are good, healthy, but not to live in. I'm just going to think of grandma and her apartment when I have too, feel lost, and then I'm happy again.