some people leave this world, but they do not really leave you.
That is how I feel about my Grandma Rosie Lee Erkerd
Her body may not be here anymore, but her love still feels like something that walks beside me. Something soft. Something steady. Something I can still feel when life gets heavy and I do not know how I am going to keep going.
Grandma Rosie was not just my grandmother.
She was one of the women who helped me survive.
She was part of the love that stayed.
And when you grow up knowing what it feels like to be hurt, rejected, or made to feel like you are too much, the people who stay become sacred.
Grandma Rosie was sacred to me.
She still is.
She Was One of the Ones Who Stayed
When I think about Grandma Rosie, I do not just think about memories.
I think about safety.
I think about love.
I think about the kind of presence that did not make me feel like I had to earn my place.
There are some people who make you feel like love is something you have to perform for.
Like you have to be quiet enough.
Strong enough.
Good enough.
Useful enough.
Easy enough.
But Grandma Rosie’s love did not feel like that.
Her love felt like something softer.
Something real.
Something that did not ask me to disappear.
And I think that is why her love still means so much to me.
Because as a child, I needed that. I needed someone who made me feel like I mattered. I needed someone who saw me as more than my fear, more than my pain, more than what I was going through.
Grandma Rosie gave me something I still carry.
She gave me the feeling that I was loved.
And when life made me question my worth, her love became one of the places inside me that I could return to.
What Grandma Rosie Taught Me About Love
Grandma Rosie taught me that love is not just something you say.
Love does something.
Love shows up.
Love helps.
Love gives.
Love reaches for people when they need you.
She taught me that if somebody loves you, you will see it in what they do. Not just in pretty words. Not just in promises. Not just in saying the right thing when it is easy.
Love will do something for you.
That lesson stayed with me.
Because sometimes I have accepted words when I needed actions.
Sometimes I wanted to believe love was there even when the behavior was not loving.
Sometimes I held on to people who said things, but did not show up in ways that made me feel safe.
But Grandma Rosie’s kind of love was different.
Her love had hands.
Her love had action.
Her love had care in it.
She taught me that real love does not just talk.
Real love moves.
Give People Their Flowers While They Are Alive
Paste this:
Grandma Rosie also taught me that you should give people their flowers while they are alive.
Do not wait until someone is gone to say what they meant to you.
Do not wait until the funeral to speak love over them.
Do not wait until they cannot hear you anymore to say, “Thank you. I love you. You mattered to me.”
Love people while they are here.
Tell them they matter.
Show up for them.
Appreciate them.
Give them kindness while they can still feel it.
That lesson means even more to me now because Grandma Rosie is not physically here anymore. I wish I could tell her face to face how much her love still carries me. I wish I could give her all the flowers now.
But since I cannot, I will honor her by loving people better while they are still here.
I will try to say the words.
I will try to show the love.
I will try not to wait.
Because flowers mean something different when the person can still smell them.
She Taught Me Not to Hold My Hand Too Tight
Grandma Rosie used to teach that you should not hold your hand too tight.
Because if your hand is closed too tight, nothing can come in.
That is one of those lessons that sounds simple, but it means so much.
Sometimes fear makes you hold on too tightly.
You hold on to people.
You hold on to pain.
You hold on to control.
You hold on to what is familiar, even when it is hurting you.
But Grandma Rosie believed you had to keep your hand open enough for God to bless you.
Open enough to receive.
Open enough to give.
Open enough to trust that everything does not have to come from fear.
And I think about that now in my own life.
I think about how many times I have held on because I was scared.
Scared to lose people.
Scared to start over.
Scared to believe something better could come.
Scared that if I let go, nothing would be there.
But Grandma Rosie’s lesson reminds me that a closed hand cannot receive much.
A closed heart cannot fully heal.
A closed life cannot fully become.
Sometimes you have to open your hand.
Not because life has been easy.
But because God may still have something for you.
If God Blesses You, Pass It On
Grandma Rosie believed that if God blesses you, you pass it on.
You do not just keep everything for yourself.
You do not act like blessings are only meant to stop with you.
If you have something to give, you give.
If somebody needs help, you help.
If somebody is hungry, you feed them.
If somebody needs kindness, you try to give kindness.
That was her heart.
And I think that is part of why her love felt so real. She did not just talk about faith. She lived it.
Her faith had action.
Her faith had compassion.
Her faith had bread in it.
Her faith had humility in it.
She believed blessings were meant to move through you, not just sit with you.
And that makes me think about Becoming Antoinette.
Because maybe this is part of what I am trying to do too.
Maybe my healing is not only for me.
Maybe my story is not only for me.
Maybe what I survive, what I learn, what I heal, and what I become can help somebody else feel less alone.
Maybe that is one way I pass it on.
Not because I have everything figured out.
I do not.
But because I know what it feels like to need a soft place to land.
And if I can become that for someone else, even in a small way, then Grandma Rosie’s love is still moving through me.
She Taught Me to Give Bread, Not Stones
Grandma Rosie taught me that even if someone is mean to you, you still give them bread.
Not because what they did was okay.
Not because you should let people walk all over you.
Not because you should have no boundaries.
But because she believed your heart did not have to become hard just because someone else was cruel.
She believed you did not have to throw stone for stone.
That lesson is not always easy.
Because when people hurt you, part of you wants to hurt back.
Part of you wants them to feel what they made you feel.
Part of you wants to prove that you are not weak.
But Grandma Rosie’s way was different.
She believed you could still choose who you wanted to be.
You could still choose kindness.
You could still choose mercy.
You could still choose not to let another person’s cruelty turn your heart into something cold.
And I think that is powerful.
Because giving someone bread does not mean you let them keep hurting you.
It does not mean you stay where you are being abused.
It does not mean you pretend pain did not happen.
It means you do not let bitterness become your home.
It means you do not let somebody else’s darkness steal your softness.
It means you can have boundaries and still have a heart.
And that is something I am still learning.
She Taught Me to Help Quietly
Grandma Rosie also taught me that if you do something for someone, you do not go around talking about it.
You do not help people just so everybody can clap for you.
You do not give just so you can throw it back in someone’s face later.
You do not bless somebody and then use it to make them feel small.
If you are going to help, help from the heart.
That is what she believed.
She taught me that real love does not need to show off.
Real kindness does not need a spotlight.
Real giving does not embarrass people.
If someone is hungry, you feed them.
If someone needs help, you help them.
If God blesses you, you pass it on.
But you do it with humility.
You do it quietly.
You do it because it is right, not because you want attention.
And I think that is part of why her love felt so real.
Grandma Rosie did not just talk about love.
She lived it.
Her Faith Was in Her Heart
Grandma Rosie was a very religious person.
But not in a fake way.
Not in a way that made God feel mean or cold.
She believed in God deeply.
She went to church, but she also believed you did not have to only find God in a church building.
She believed it was in your heart.
And I love that about her.
Because her faith was not just about what she said on Sunday.
It was how she lived.
It was how she loved.
It was how she gave.
It was how she forgave.
It was how she kept softness in a world that can make people hard.
She believed God was not only in the building.
God was in how you treated people.
God was in how you helped.
God was in how you gave bread.
God was in how you passed blessings on.
God was in the heart.
And I think that is beautiful.
Because sometimes people can go to church and still be cruel.
Sometimes people can know scripture and still not know how to love.
But Grandma Rosie’s faith felt alive.
It felt warm.
It felt like something you could feel through her actions.
And that is the kind of faith I respect.
The kind that makes people softer.
The kind that makes people kinder.
The kind that makes people more loving, not more judgmental.
I Still Need Her Sometimes
I will be honest.
There are still moments when I wish I could talk to her.
There are moments when I wish I could hear her voice.
Moments when I wish I could sit beside her and tell her everything that has happened.
I wish I could tell her about the woman I am becoming.
I wish I could tell her about therapy.
I wish I could tell her about the tears I am finally learning how to let out.
I wish I could tell her that I am trying.
That I am healing.
That I am not all the way there yet, but I am not where I used to be either.
I wish I could tell her about Becoming Antoinette.
I wish I could tell her that I am trying to build something out of my pain, not because the pain was okay, but because I do not want it to be wasted.
I wish I could tell her that I am trying to use my story to help other women feel less alone.
And sometimes I wonder what she would say.
I imagine she would not rush me.
I imagine she would not shame me.
I imagine she would look at me with that love that only certain people carry.
And maybe she would say something simple, but it would mean everything.
Something like:
“Baby, I’m proud of you.”
And I think those words would break me open in the best way.
Her Love Helped Me Believe I Was Worth Something
When you have been through things that made you feel unwanted, unloved, or unsafe, it can be hard to believe you are worth loving.
Even when people tell you.
Even when you want to believe it.
Your body can still remember the rejection.
Your heart can still remember the hurt.
Your little-girl self can still wonder, “What did I do wrong?”
But Grandma Rosie’s love gave me something different.
Her love reminded me that I was not just what happened to me.
I was not just the child who cried.
I was not just the child who felt scared.
I was not just the child who learned to hold everything inside.
I was still somebody.
I was still worthy.
I was still loved.
And I think that is one of the most powerful things a grandmother can give you.
Not just food.
Not just hugs.
Not just family memories.
But a place inside your heart that says:
“I was loved by her. So maybe I was never as unlovable as I felt.”
That matters.
That kind of love can stay with you for a lifetime.
I Wish She Could See Me Now
I wish Grandma Rosie could see me now.
I wish she could see how hard I am fighting for myself.
I wish she could see that I am not giving up, even when things are hard.
I wish she could see that I am trying to heal the parts of me that were hurt so young.
I wish she could see that I am learning to cry without hating myself for it.
I wish she could see that I am learning I do not have to disappear to be loved.
I wish she could see that I am trying to become the woman I was always meant to be.
Not perfect.
Not fully healed.
Not always confident.
But honest.
Growing.
Trying.
Becoming.
And I think maybe, in some way, she does see me.
Maybe love that deep does not just vanish.
Maybe the people who truly loved us leave something behind that still guides us.
Maybe every time I choose myself, I am honoring her.
Maybe every time I keep going, I am carrying her love forward.
Maybe every time I speak the truth about my life, I am showing that her love did not die with her.
It lives in me.
Grandma Rosie Is Part of Becoming Antoinette
Becoming Antoinette is not just about me losing weight.
It is not just about healing from relationships.
It is not just about therapy.
It is not just about learning to love myself.
It is about all of it.
It is about surviving.
It is about coming back to myself.
It is about the little girl in me finally learning she did not deserve what happened to her.
It is about the women who stayed when others did not.
And Grandma Rosie is part of that.
She is part of my story.
She is part of my healing.
She is part of the reason I know love can be gentle.
She is part of the reason I know family can mean safety.
She is part of the reason I still believe there is softness in this world.
When I say I am becoming Antoinette, I am not becoming someone brand new from nothing.
I am becoming someone who is finally remembering all the love that was planted in me.
And Grandma Rosie planted love in me.
A love that still grows.
A love that still speaks.
A love that still helps me breathe when life feels like too much.
I Carry Her With Me
I carry Grandma Rosie in the way I keep going.
I carry her in the way I want to love my future children.
I carry her in the way I want to create a safe home one day.
I carry her in the way I want my future dog and cat to feel loved, protected, and wanted.
I carry her in the way I want to help other women feel seen.
I carry her in the way I am learning to be softer with myself.
I carry her in the way I want to help quietly, not for praise, but because it is right.
I carry her in the way I want to keep my hand open enough to receive and open enough to give.
I carry her in the way I want to pass blessings on.
Because love does not end just because someone dies.
Love changes form.
Sometimes it becomes memory.
Sometimes it becomes strength.
Sometimes it becomes a voice inside you that says, “Keep going, baby.”
Sometimes it becomes the reason you do not give up.
That is what Grandma Rosie’s love feels like to me.
It feels like something that still holds me.
Even from the other side.
What I Want to Say to Her
Grandma Rosie, I miss you.
I miss you in ways I do not always know how to explain.
I miss the safety of you.
I miss the love of you.
I miss knowing you were here in the physical world.
But I want you to know I am trying.
I am trying to heal.
I am trying to stop blaming myself for things that were never my fault.
I am trying to stop hiding my tears.
I am trying to stop disappearing inside myself.
I am trying to build a life that feels safe, loving, and free.
I am trying to become the woman you would be proud of.
And I hope you know that your love still matters.
It still reaches me.
It still comforts me.
It still reminds me that I was never alone in the way I thought I was.
You were one of the ones who stayed.
You were one of the ones who loved me.
You were one of the ones who helped me become.
And I will carry that for the rest of my life.
A Message for Anyone Missing Someone Safe
If you are missing someone who made you feel safe, I want you to know this:
Their love still mattered.
Their love still counts.
Their love still lives in the parts of you that learned how to survive.
Sometimes grief is not just missing a person.
Sometimes grief is missing the version of yourself you were allowed to be around them.
The softer you.
The safer you.
The you that did not have to explain so much.
And if you had someone like that, I hope you know how sacred that love was.
I hope you carry it gently.
I hope you let it remind you that safe love exists.
And I hope, when life feels heavy, you remember this:
Some love does not leave.
It becomes part of who you are.
Grandma Rosie’s love became part of me.
And maybe that is why I am still here.
Still healing.
Still trying.
Still becoming.
Love will do something for you.
Don’t hold your hand too tight, because nothing can come in.
If God blesses you, pass it on.
Even if someone is mean to you, still give them bread.
Don’t throw stone for stone.
If you do something for someone, don’t go talking about it.
Don’t forget the bridge that carried you across.
Keep the faith. Keep pushing.
God is in your heart.
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