Written in the voice of a grandchild a year after losing their grandmother, the poem is about grief the speaker refuses to let go of. The speaker admits to hiding the pain, not crying, and not speaking of her, though she is in their thoughts constantly. Even the comforting dreams hurt, because they seem to be telling the speaker to move on.
The reason for holding on is a quiet fear: if they cry and let go, her memory will fade faster. The speaker also dreads returning to her house, where they spent every day as a child, because she won't be there. Friends urge them to cry, but they resist, calling themselves selfish and foolish while admitting they can't change.
The mood is raw, honest, and tender. The short, repeated lines ("I know / I know / I know") feel like someone circling the same thought, and the shift from "you were" to "you are" shows that, for the speaker, love hasn't ended.