10/08/2026
Two years today.
Grief changes shape, but love doesn’t.
I think about my grandma every single day.
Today I find myself reflecting not only on who she was, but on the women who came before me. Women who carried so much, often quietly. Women who gave endlessly, loved fiercely, and endured more than was ever spoken about.
My grandmother gave me so much. Her warmth, her resilience, her kindness, her generosity, and the way she opened her home and her heart to everyone around her. She taught us that love could be expressed through food, through hospitality, through caring for others, and through the quiet, everyday acts that often go unnoticed. She was the most extraordinary cook, she poured her heart and soul into every meal she made. She had a calming presence that made you feel safe, yet those of us who knew her best also knew her haste, her humor, her fiery temper at times, and her humanity that made her exactly who she was.
As I’ve grown, I’ve realized that honoring her doesn’t mean carrying everything. Some things I hold close because they continue to guide me. Others I choose to gently lay down, not as a rejection of her, but as a way of honoring both her life and my own.
She lives on not only through my story, but through the lives of her daughters, my cousins, and me. I see her in all of us, in our values, the ways we love, care, cook, gather, and continue to show up for one another. Her legacy isn’t something I remember only on anniversaries; it’s something I experience every day.
I still catch glimpses of her everywhere. In the smell of food filling a home. Around a family table. In moments of kindness. In the strength of women. In quiet moments of reflection. I see her in the way I experience the world, I think of her and I feel her presence every single day.
My practice was dedicated to her because her life continues to shape my life and my work. Every conversation, every moment of compassion, and every woman who entrusts me with her story reminds me of the generations of women whose lives have made ours possible. Every space I hold for healing is, in many ways, part of her legacy.
Thank you, Yiayia. Your story continues through mine, through our family, and through the work I have the privilege of doing every day.
Love never dies. And I will always speak of my love for you in the present tense.
Γιαγιά Άννα. Always remembered. Always loved. 🤍🩵
