Life is full of seasons. With each season comes change, some good and some bad, but the one thing that didn't change was the love my grandmother showed me. That love was not always expressed as kind words and a hug. Sometimes my actions warranted gentle guidance and discipline to teach me wrong from right. As I became older, I took for granted that love, having never not had it. When my grandmother died, I grieved for that consistent love that I knew I would never have privilege to again. The goodness of it all is I have the memories of the way my grandmother's love made me feel.