the date grandma was born was the fourth of july. the year, however, remains a disputed fact, although i’m quite sure it was 1921, since she was born in the year of the rooster, just like me. we share other things too, like our common love for sweet things and afternoon naps.
yesterday, after waking her from her nap, i talked to her for the last time before she passed away hours later. she couldn’t talk very much, but nodded as enthusiastically as she could and smiled her unforgettable smile when she could tell we were around. for someone who’s lived with me all my life, i’m ashamed to say she probably knew me more than i knew her, and i’m sad that it had to take this illness for us to grow closer. but it was never too late, and in this short life there’s no space for regrets. i cherish every conversation we’ve ever had, especially the last few we shared through these past weeks.
grandma, it breaks my heart every time i think about the state were you in, tubes and all, and how thin you had become in just a matter of weeks and months. and i can’t believe how your hands, once ever so warm, now lie cold and lifeless.
but i feel alright when you smile.