This weekend, my family and I went through my grandmother's apartment, collecting the last few things from her that we considered useful or sentimental. I took some of her clothes and blankets and jewelry.

I've thrown her soft blue shawl over my couch, and rest my head on it as I play with the gold locket that hangs around my neck. My apartment kind of smells like her apartment now. It's a really strange feeling, that lingering presence of her.