What would you say?

Last night, once again, I used the mortar and pestle from Puerto Rico that had always been on Grandma Rachel's shelf. I ground up spices and garlic to make Indian curry. Using it makes me feel connected to Aunt Angie and Puertorican breezes. It also connects me to Grandma; but it makes me sad, too, because I do not think that I ever remembered to thank her for it. I got it in the mail just a month or so before she died. Then I start thinking of the myriad of things that are unsaid, unshared, and that will always stay that way, and sometimes tears drip into the pilon, salting the garlic. So here is my question: If you could, what would you say to Rachel, what would you ask, what subjects would you discuss?