Keep Talkin' Happy Talk

A year ago this weekend my Gran died.  By day it's a year today, by date a year tomorrow.  I had Gran in my life for eight years longer than any other grandparent - she had eight years more of visits, letters, phone calls, post-cards and random drop-ins.  Yet I feel like I hardly had a chance to tell her anything.  I spoke to her every day for six months after my Grandad died, partly because she needed that contact and my Mum was too deep in her grief to do it.  But mostly, it was because I wanted to.  She became harder work as she got older - her opinions and old fashioned views became more entrenched, but I genuinely enjoyed her company.  So today, making it over a year since I last spoke to her (it breaks my heart that I don't know what the last conversation I had with her was), I want to pick up that phone and natter with her so badly it makes my heart ache.
If I could call her, and have one more conversation, what would I say?  Would I tell her I love her and that she's been an amazing teacher and inspiration?  Would I ask her to re-tell all those stories about her life with my Grandad that I've heard so many times before?  Would I fill her in on my job and uni because I know how proud she is was of everything I did? I don't think I'd do any of those.  My favourite times talking to Gran were when we talked about everything and nothing, we put the world to rights and swapped recipes, criticised the politicians and praised the celebs on Strictly Come Dancing, we'd make each other laugh - so much laughter.  If I could talk to her, one last time, I'd make sure it was the best conversation ever: it would be like every other conversation we had where if you asked me what we'd spoken about I wouldn't be able to really tell you, but I'd know we'd had a lovely time chatting.
There aren't words to explain how much it hurts to know that's never going to happen.