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She used to wake me up in the middle of the night
"come out here and talk to me" ... I'd sigh and say "alright"
I'd sit beside her, on the couch, my legs tucked under me
she'd light her cigarette and then she'd start in with a story.

She'd tell me of her childhood, all the stories of her past
I'd listen, so enraptured, she tried to make them last
sometimes just an hour, sometimes till the sun came up
but I never tired of listening, I could never get enough.

Turn the pages Gramma, in your book of hopes and dreams
Take me with you Gramma, on your trip of memories
Turn the pages Gramma, I feel so close to you now
Turn the pages Gramma, take me back with you somehow.

Then came the day my sister called, said Gramma passed away
I held the phone up to my ear I didn't know what to say
I didn't want to believe her, I didn't want it to be true
I didn't get to say goodbye, I didn't say I love you.

But for a chance to say those things, Gramma came to me that night
One last time she woke me up, hair black and gown so white
She stood there in my doorway and waved a last goodbye
Though I knew she was alright I couldn't help but cry

I knew I would always love her and I'd miss having her around
and I knew I'd miss her stories, I wish I'd have written them down
No more will I hear her laughter, no more will I see her tears
I'm glad she gave me my own stories to pass down through the years.

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