Hi, Grandma. I Miss You.

Twenty-seven years ago today, I timidly walked into the room where my grandma was lying. I wish it was her own room but this room was helping her stay alive. I was told we were to say our goodbyes. I don’t remember what I said. I only remember deep sadness. The first time in my 21 years that I had felt this kind of sadness. My grandma couldn’t talk back to me. She was sleeping with tubes and monitors and boring blankets. There was no music. There was no climbing on the bed with her one last time. I probably held her hands, kissed them and her forehead, a hundred times. Afterall, it was only her body leaving.

I wouldn’t be able to hug her or look in her eyes again. Her little body had gone through a lot, which now I suspect was attributed to her pain and drive to keep everyone okay. After my goodbye, I wept as I walked outside for a smoke. I wouldn’t have left but these hospital stays have a way of going long and I figured 15 minutes she’d still be here.

As I entered her room again, my papa was the first one I saw and hugged. He had her wedding ring on the arm of his glasses. She was gone.

My first death of a loved one and it happened to be our matriarch. She was the glue that held us all. She had relentlessly given so much of herself to make sure all of us were okay and taken care of. Her heart was bigger than her marriage, her body, and her checkbook. She always put others first and that was clear. We were all there by her side, saying goodbye, touching her warm body one last time.

27 years ago I kissed my grandma for the last time. I have missed her tremendously. She left too soon.

But did she?

She’s still here. In non-physical form. She’s always here. I often wonder what our relationship would have looked like if she had stayed. I imagine I would have regular times to go help her clean her house, organize her office, or learn how to cook with her. We would go to museums and listen to podcasts together. We’d talk about our childhoods and our most proud moments. I would bring her her favorite treats and I’d clean up after dinner. I missed out on doting and really caring for my grandma. She was always caring for everyone in our family but herself. I would have spoiled her. I would have asked more questions and thanked her more. She would have loved my wife. She would have folded her into her family circle of love.

Now she is with me all the time. I think of her but I don’t know how to hear her. I want to feel more of her presence with me now.

I know you are here grandma. Would you mind speaking up? I am listening.