For Jessica Thompson, who lost her grandfather on Oct. 17. 

By Emily Steves, @SeeEmilyPlay

You meant to call your grandmother last week, but your homework load overflowed and she slipped your mind.

If you still have grandparents to call, consider me envious. Don’t overlook them even –– hell, especially –– when life gets crazy.

Studies show grandchildren who maintain close relationships with their grandparents help prevent depression for both parties. Call them and tell them about school. Ask them questions about their lives. Hearing about your grandmother’s bingo games could be just what you –– and she –– needed.

And that $50 your grandpa tries to sneak you every time you visit? Graciously take it. Grandparents live for those times they can help you out. When your grandmother offers to bake you cookies, don’t refuse. She won’t always be around to bake them for you.

But I understand.

I’ve been there.

I didn’t really have the chance to know my dad’s parents. But, for nearly 20 years of my life, my mom’s parents lived right around the corner.

I refused money from them sometimes. I forgot to call sometimes. But I’d give anything to accept a favor from my Papa again. Or to have a slice of Grandma’s apple pie. I have her recipe –– in her handwriting, no less –– but it tasted better when she made it.

My family and I didn’t realize how debilitating Papa’s death in 2011 would be for Grandma. Slowly, dementia crept across her brain.

Her actions and words sometimes made my sweet, ladylike grandmother unrecognizable.

Especially when she said hurtful things to my mom.

I’ll admit it: keeping contact with her became a burden instead of a joy.

I distanced myself out of fear, but I had the nice thought to call her after work Friday, July 26.

Key words: “nice” and “thought.”

I never called.

She went to the hospital a week later with kidney failure.

But my mom told me not to worry and not to drive home. So I didn’t. I kept my plans that weekend while my grandma lay in a hospital bed, asking my mom, “Where’s Emily?”

She died Aug. 4.

Tears blurred my vision during the 2.5-hour drive home from my summer internship.

Months later, it still feels fresh.

I’m doing okay, but I can’t believe I went a whole month without talking to her or seeing her before she died.

I can’t believe she’s gone.

I miss her. I miss them.

I can’t believe I’ll never stop at their house again to visit on my way home.

No one knows how long grandparents –– or any loved ones, for that matter –– will live. That places a responsibility on us to nurture our important blood connections. Call or visit your grandparents –– don’t forget about or avoid them like I did sometimes.

At least I find comfort when I remember the last sentence I spoke to both my Grandma and my Papa: “I love you.”

Originally written for my opinion writing course at St. Bonaventure University.