I lost my grandmother last year, August 29th. It wasn’t COVID-19, I think that’s a thing you have to clarify these days. She was in her 80s and had battled cancer successfully and with vigor for about a decade. She was amazing, beyond the cancer she was absolutely incredible. A joy to be around for every single person who met her. And I am not exaggerating, I wish I could recount all the stories I heard from people I never knew after her passing. She was truly a light on this planet, a woman who loved deeply and made the most of what could have been a tragically hard life.
I could talk about my grandmother all day, sometimes I can’t help but go on about her to strangers, friends, colleagues even before she died. And every person always responds with something to the effect of “she sounds incredible,” because she was. But I sat down to write this today because I want to talk about me. Selfish, maybe, but I want to remember this moment in time, about 6 month after her death, this stage of my grief. I have dreams about her every so often. In the ones I remember she has always come back to life for a brief moment, indicating to me that even in sleep my subconscious of fully aware she is no longer here. I am always interacting with my big family in these dreams, and sometimes I don’t get to see her before she is gone again. In the last dream I cried so deeply after realizing I missed her and I woke up from that dream still sad. So that morning I finally listened to voicemails of her, laughing and crying all at once, happy to remember how funny and vibrant she was and sad to realize that was no more.
I feel very fortunate because I think I truly began grieving for her in September of 2019. She received a another bad health prognosis and we all began preparing for the worst. Despite years of these patterns, this time hit me differently. It was the first time I truly felt her mortality. Despite the bad news and her initial hesitation to pursue another treatment she against all odds was accepted to an experimental drug trail and staved of the spread of her cancer. The most incredible part was that she felt good, or as good as an 80+ year old could as she told me! The “months to live” disappeared and she gave us another year. All this is to say, when she did decline, it was sudden and fast. It was during a pandemic that forced this active woman inside for months with no end in sight. Despite the speed I was so lucky to be there when we realized this could be it. It somehow didn’t hurt in the same way as the new that September did, that year prior was uniquely different from all the previous years of downs followed by ups. That September was even more painful than the first time we got the news that she had a very aggressive cancer; I remember that moment in exact detail.
I spent the last several days with her, going through the initial stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining . All of them at warp speed. Until it was the last day or so and all I could be was grateful for having her my entire life. The most incredible grandmother, the only grandparent I’ve ever known. My friend and confidant, my comrade in faith. My mentor and role-model. I was so lucky to know her and for her to love me the way she did. The way she live all of her children and grandchildren. I cried at her memorial less for her but more for my youngest cousins who get less time with her than me. I friend for the future generations who will only get to here the stories but may never truly get how awesome she was. I cried selfishly because I would miss her guidance and love. And I cry now for the same reasons.
I want to remember this moment because I know my grief will evolve over the years. It won’t always feel like this, I hope. But it also isn’t over just yet and so here I am acknowledging it.