I think about my Grandma Wilson, my mom's mom, on a weekly basis. She's been gone for many years now, but I miss her so very much. I'll see a jar of Duke's mayonnaise or hear some funny phrase that reminds me of her, or I'll have a story to tell that I wish she could hear. So I decided to write her a letter. She'd be very happy to know I'm married to a good, "clean cut" man, who adores me as much as I adore him. She'd be even more relieved to know I left New York, where she constantly feared for my safety. Too much Larry King Live (her favorite) probably was to blame. She'd laugh at the fact that I still can't master her caramel frosting, and then be happy to point out exactly what I'm doing all wrong. And after a lifetime of trying to convince me that tomatoes are delicious, I now crave them just as much as she did. She'd delight in all her new grandchildren and be sure to ask me when I'll be jumping on that bandwagon. In my letter, I also told her how much my mother reminds me of her: strong, selfless, hardworking. And I told her that I sure hope she's proud of the woman I've become. The next time someone you've lost—whether by death or heartbreak or whatever else—pops into your mind, I suggest sitting down and writing them a letter. Once you get those thoughts down, you'll realize that getting a response isn't the point at all.