Subtle.

It's funny, the subtle ways we miss people after they're gone.

I miss the clothing my grandmother picked out for my son, knowing that there's an end to the outfits with her superb taste. I can always tell when my boys are wearing something she bought for them.

I miss the way she called for my birthday, and was thrilled when I found old voicemail birthday wishes from her so I could still hear her voice.

I miss the photo with her and Bear that we'll never have.

I miss her arepas, fruit and cheese for breakfast, the way she used to tuck money into my hand when I was a kid (and even in college).

I miss the way she used to cover my eyes when they watched old western movies, even though I wasn't interested in them and they bored me to sleep.

I miss the soft way she spoke, her Colombian accent, the slightly imperfect English, the way she cut her breath when she was surprised by something, and her sprinkling laughter. Her Spanish was always so beautiful and melodic.

And even though I miss hearing her tell me to be happy, I know she still is.