The first time we met was in court. I could barely look at you. My daughter was almost two and you had never met her, but you were petitioning the court for custody. I had been her mommy since she was 40 hours old and we were already pre-adoptive. Her birth mother had surrendered her rights early on and her birth father, your son, had had his rights terminated at 18 months—yet here we were, in court again, still in limbo. I was scared and angry.

The judge was quick to make a decision in our favor. At the time, it seemed like a ridiculous attempt—how could two older people who lived halfway across the country and had never even seen the child contemplate getting custody? Now I realize you were just doing what you had to do.

We met for real the next day, because you asked for a visit before you flew back home. I agreed, so we awkwardly said hello in a small visitation room at the Department of Human Services. We chatted for a while, mostly small talk. You worked at the library and had two other kids who were both doing really well in life. You asked questions, but didn’t pry. You had brought gifts for your granddaughter, and I noticed that they were all things you had lovingly made or thought about carefully. The hour passed quickly and we said we’d be in touch.

We started handwriting letters back and forth. I was clear from the beginning that this relationship was between you and me and did not include your son. I had to be able to trust you to keep my daughter safe. You totally got it, along with the fact that I had two other children through adoption, so you just became everyone’s “Gramma B.”

You sent gifts for everyone’s birthday and the holidays—often gorgeous items you had knitted. All of my children sleep under blankets you made and look forward to boxes of books from your library sale. We both cautiously opened our hearts to this relationship and learned as we went along about how an open adoption can work.

We started to e-mail every week or so, sharing the details of our lives. You send us recipes and craft ideas, I send photos and art projects. The communication doesn’t get very deep, but our relationship is real and has value to all of us. If we lived closer, I am sure we would visit in person.

This last season flew by. I paused for a moment, as I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of weeks, but just assumed you were busy. And then this week I heard from your daughter that you were in the ICU, barely hanging on to life, having been diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer. My heart cracked into a million pieces.

I haven’t seen you since that strange first meeting eight years ago, but I thought we had more time. I realized how much we need you. You are my daughter’s link to her birth history, my kids’ Gramma, and my friend. As my daughter put it, “Gramma B. better not die. We need her around for a good long time.” We do, so please get better because we love you.