My Grandmother. My Rock.

The thing I am finding hardest to write over anything is a letter to my 91 year old grandmother. I don't see her enough, and the reason I want to write to her is to show her how much I think about her every day and that even though I can't afford to visit her, I would in a heartbeat if I could.
She's everything to me: My mother; my sister and my best friend, and I love her so, so much. I need to tell her... Completely spill it all out so that no detail goes amiss, because she's frail. She's getting older. She doesn't have long left.
I want to give her life and as much love as I can while she's still here. I want to spoil her and squeeze her tight and tell her that I might be tens of years younger than her but I will always be by her side. I miss her already... who knows how much I will miss her when she is gone! That's why I need to do this. Write this letter. Visit her when I can. Give her back everything she has given me over the years, which is obviously impossible, but I can try. Try to bring her the safety and happiness that she brought me. She was my rock. She is my rock. When she cries near the end of our phone calls after I've told her about my week, I feel like my heart is being ripped apart. Those tears. That caring, wonderful woman. She needs to know how much I care about her, in the same way that she cares about me.
She needs to.