Of course, I tell myself that I can “do this” – I can say what’s on my heart and in my mind and the time comes and I literally shut down, everything becomes consuming because I think all the while I’m trying not to cry, and remembering, knowing hurts, not just a little, but a whole lot.
My grandma (and you may hear this again one day) spoiled me. From as long as I can remember is was mom and grandma everywhere we went. When I was having trouble in school and not listening, my reward on Friday was grandma would take me out to eat to McDonald’s and I remember her on some Friday’s cohersing me to make another choice. Sundays were my days at grandma’s while mom worked at a nursery in a church. We’d make tortillas and I’d get to make my hand and she would put butter on it or I would want quesadillas and I’d have a hand quesadilla. Growing up, she explored new things with me, we did many puzzles together and our favorite thing to do before school was play Skip-bo. In elementary school my mom would drop me off at grandma’s early in the morning and I’d have breakfast with grandma and Papo, play a few games of skip-bo or watch cartoons and papo would walk me to school while grandma finished getting ready for work. After school, papo would pick me up and we’d wait until it was time to pick up grandma from work. We spent lots of time together and she spoiled me rotten. Everyday from work I’d have a surprise – and at Christmas I’d always got extra from her, but I couldn’t open any of my presents when we had the family thing I had to wait until we got home not to “show” the other grandkids. They weren’t elaborate or massive, but they were things she knows I would enjoy. One year a cross necklace, and the next Mickey Mouse stuff and I dunno, I was the favorite and we spent so much time with them. I still remember before they remodeled their house having the breakfast bar with those stools and papo and me would sit there, and he would “race” me to eat since I would never eat much then.
On Saturday as the doctor reminded us that the end was coming near, I lost my right mind. I started sobbing, as I went to sit at the edge of her bed. She’s awake and I’m telling her I’m crying because I love her and thanked her being a fighter. Then my great-aunt comes up to me, and she says, “You’ll never know how much your grandma loved you. She was so proud of all the things you do and did. Everyday we would talk and she never failed to bring up your name. She loves you so much, Amy.” Well good grief, I don’t want to know that NOW…..she’s dying! But, I know….I know that she loves me a-lot. That I am certain of. There are so many little memories and that she was a constant in my life. Although we weren’t sharing secrets, but she showed me love in the smallest form. Even as of late, when I would see her and give her a hug when I walked in the door it was always followed with, “How’s my little girl?”
I’m sitting here and unlike my mom there are so many memories that we shared. Nothing extravagant but we shared them. She would always try to teach me to sew, and got me into cross-stitched a few times, but I guess my attention span didn’t allow for completion of that project. But, I’m sitting looking at this pillow she made me two years ago on my birthday and in her own handwriting she writes on the back “If you need a hug Hug me” with a tag that says “made with love by grandma” - my life has been filled with blankets, pillows, things after things, to have her a big part of my life all made with “love.”
I just got off the phone with an hour-long conversation with Ellen. She’s very intrusive, but because she knows she has to be that way with me, or you get “I’m fine, yeah, and uh huh” – we were talking about those years back we met, and how I was so not her friend – and I think it was the dishwasher incident that showed us that we could “get along.” She used regular soap instead of dishwashing soap, and yep, suds everywhere, it looked like it snowed outside, it was great! She asks really hard questions too, like whom are you allowing to be you friend? Then, she waits for an answer, and/or asks again. Then, she reiterates the same phrase, years later, when will you just let people care and/or when will you learn to just “be.” A good question, right? I figure if they need to stump someone on who wants to be a millionaire that would be a good question for them to use. I think I still miss that she doesn’t live near anymore, she’s a good reality check.
