Remembering The Grandmother I Never Met

Image by RÜŞTÜ BOZKUŞ from Pixabay 

These past few months I have been thinking a lot about my paternal grandmother, whom I never met. She passed away 10 years ago this month from a sickness that was never identified.

She lived in a small pueblo in Guatemala with my grandfather (who just passed recently), right by the forest. The forest where they used to live when my dad, uncles, and aunts were very young. Where they grew up hunting for rabbits, picking wild mushrooms and herbs, and climbing trees for fun, or to eat their bearings. 

I remember my dad was sad and guilt stricken when he heard of her passing. She had been sick for a while, but it did not seem life-threatening. Perhaps he did not want to believe that it could be life threatening? He felt guilty for not having gone to see her before she died, and saw no point in going after she died. His brothers and sisters commented on his actions, and my dad felt more pain and guilt on top of his existing pain and guilt. I did not know how to be there for him, other than listen to him talk about her, and what he was feeling. I did not feel sadness. It's difficult to miss or grieve someone you never met. I did however felt a bit of disappointment for not having met her. (We did attempt to speak over the phone once but it was very difficult as she only spoke her dialect and knew no Spanish)

Eventually he flew to Guatemala to visit her grave. He learned that many people attended her funeral from all over the village, and other nearby villages. So many people knew her kind heart and paid their respects.

The only thing I have of her is a bag she sent to me with my dad when I was a teen. I've had that bag for about 20 years. I still use it as a book bag, and it continues to remind me of her every time I use it. 

One night I laid in bed and she popped into my head. I've never really thought about her in any way other than she was the grandmother who knew I existed and sent along a red bag for me. This night was different. 

I thought about the bag, and I thought about the small store she owned and named after me. I thought about the stories my dad told me about her. I saw her face, and felt warm inside. I felt the love that I feel as a mother- the unconditional love. I felt love and sadness at the same time. Sadness for never having met this kind and compassionate woman.

Then I felt them. I felt the tears fill my eyes, and then slide off my face and drip onto the pillow. That night I grieved the grandmother I never met. She loved me even though she never met me. She thought about me, and this night I thought about her like never before. I was enveloped with her love and embraced by her warmth. I reciprocate the love.

I feel immense gratitude for being able to feel as I do right now for a grandmother I never met. Since that night I have felt her presence every now and then. It makes me smile, and occasionally teary eyed. I realize that it's a little odd talking about feeling her presence when I was never in her presence- it's something I can't explain. I just feel something. 

I've heard people talk about a deceased loved one being a part of oneself, but I never understood it until now. I can feel her as a part of me, and in me I can feel her love for me, which in turn makes me feel love for myself. (If that makes sense). So, I will remember this whenever I am being too harsh on myself or feeling no love for myself. 

There IS love.

Is there someone you hold close to you or feel a part of you?

I am Grateful for the Morning

She woke to the sound of the metro tooting,

letting everyone know it's coming through.

Another day, another toot.
She stretches, yawns and
folds her arms under her head.

I am grateful.
I can hear the morning sounds.
A rooster crows in the near distance—in someone’s backyard.
A dog’s collar jingles as it walks by. 

I am grateful.
I can see the morning light.
A deep breath and she looks towards the window.
Sunlight comes in through the sheer-like curtains. 

I am grateful.
I can smell the morning scents.
Another deep breath.
She draws in the remnants of last night’s rain.
A slow breath in, and she counts to eight,
inhaling the scent of wet earth. 

I am grateful.
I can feel the morning’s touch.
A gentle wind from the open window and
the curtain lightly waves.
Toes and feet caress the gray linen,
they curl and grab the sheet, pinching it, pulling it down.
The cold sheet slowly slides down the body,
like a cool intentional breeze
softly sweeping over her. 

I am grateful

(November was gratitude month and so I wanted to end it with this)

What are you grateful for today?

Optimism

November is gratitude month and I am doing an Instagram challenge where I post everyday (based on the daily word prompt) what I am grateful for. One of the words was OPTIMISM.

I'm not a very optimistic person, but I know that what helps me look at the brighter side is making the effort to think of the positive and reciting that over and over in my head. Like a mantra. I'm thankful for those conscious times when I do decide to make that choice.

It's also important to not forget those days when you hung in there to be where you are now.

I don't necessarily mean career wise, it could be not struggling financially where you are counting those quarters to see if you need to walk or if you can take the bus. It could mean not struggling mentally and emotionally when going through, or after some traumatic event.

Thinking about how far we've come can keep us optimistic. 

With the pandemic going on right now, it has been difficult for many of us. I'm thinking of the silver lining. For me, it would be the time I've had to reflect on my growth, and how much I need to keep growing. I am grateful for this time to reflect, learn, and the small rays of optimism that flicker behind the clouds, and make it through the breaks. Make it through just enough to make me optimistic and realize that I CAN DO THIS.

What helps keep you optimistic?

A Mother-Son Bond Through Books

When my son was very young I would talk to him and read his books in Spanish because I wanted him to be bilingual. I still talk to him in Spanish, but not as much as I use to. 

This is how it started: