Aug 31, 2007 02:38
It seems like I only write myspace blogs when I'm thinking about my grandmothers. So a month ago, my last grandmother passed away. My dad's mom passed away July 25, 1997. My mom's mom passed away July 16, 2007. Almost ten years exactly.
They were both amazing women and if I am lucky in this world, I will be able to have 1/2 of the happiness that they did.
Apo passed away ten years ago. She lived with my family for 11 years and she pretty much was my sidekick growing up. When I think of my memories from childhood, she is always there. My first day of school, she was there when I came home. My first piano lesson, she was watching from the living room. My first ballet recital, she was in the front row. Every single time I beat up Tricon, she was there and I was getting in trouble. We'd fill up the plastic swimming pool on the deck and she would get in with us. She used to make us home-made french fries when we came home from school. She'd let Tricon and Alfie eat those stupid ketchup sandwiches. She also made the best toasted bread with butter and sugar EVER. When I think of her, she's standing at the stove in our Hillside house making some dish that smells like you could eat it and die happily. She was really the best cook ever. And I mean ever. She owned a catering business and she would let me help her. I used to help her fold up lumpia or roll up the rice balls for ginatan. We'd get messy and then she'd let me eat some of our creations.
Growing up, she was the world to me. Literally, my world started and stopped with her. She was perfect. And I felt like the luckiest girl alive because my grandmother was so wonderful in so many ways.
Then she got sick. And then there were family conflicts. And I could really feel her slipping away. I used to dream about when I would finally get my license and buy a car. I dreamt about picking her up and taking her to live with me. And I thought that if she could just hang on until then, that I could save her and things would be okay. But I was only 15. It's hard to ask someone to wait 2 more years.
So the summer before I turned 16 and the summer that I moved 500 miles away to North Carolina, my grandmother slipped out of this world into the next. I held her hand as she took her last look at this world. I felt relieved and calm. I knew she was ready to go and I knew she was looking forward towards what lay ahead for her. I really felt at peace in that hospital.
For the ten years that followed, I really felt that I knew death and that I could handle death. I understood that death is the natural course of life. I was not afraid to die and I'm still not afraid to die.
But I think maybe part of me didn't get other things. Death definitely and totally sucks. It royally sucks.
Mamang died only 46 days ago. I don't have many memories of Mamang when I was very little. Maybe I was a grandmother snob when I was a kid. I remember the fish story and I know she came to my ballet recitals. I know she came to my Girl Scout shows and that she watched me cheerlead at basketball games and competitions. I know she was there and I have pictures to prove these things to you. But my memories of her don't start until much later.
I remember car rides with her and gossiping with her. I remember being so excited when I would come home from college and she was staying at our house. I was so excited just to be with her. I would lie down with her in Tricon's bed and ask her about her day and how the kids were doing. She and I did a lot of that. We both have this insane love of the children in our lives. I must have gotten that from her. She would fill me in on the lives of my little cousins. She was so enamored with her grandchildren, all of them. Even us older ones. You would think that it would be impossible to love 22 grandchildren the same but she did. And if she had favorites, she never showed it, although I can't spill any of our secrets.
She also had so much energy. She kept up with all of these grandkids and her own children. At family parties, she would be one of the last ones to go to bed. She would help my mom clean up after everyone went home. My mom told me this story about how when they went on vacation, Mamang would help her get around. My mom had double knee surgery and walking was hard for her. But my grandmother, at 80 years old, would rush to open the door for her. She would get into the car first so she could help my mom in. She would get out of the car first so she could help my mom out of the car.
Mamang was not ready to die but she did so gracefully. She had so much life left in her. That is what makes this hard for me, I guess. I thought there was time left. There were too many pictures to still take. Too many stories to still tell. So many questions I still had to ask. We still had so many more nights to spend together gossiping in Tricon's bed. And it's all gone. Just like that. In one weekend.
The week after was so busy and I was home. There were people all around me and so much to do. Matet and I spent all night making things perfect for the viewing. I thought that I might be okay with this. I really thought I'd be okay.
Then I got on a plane to go back to my life. And it's never been the same since. Sometimes I feel like I will never be happy again. That it will hurt forever. I cry, alot. And sometimes I feel so lost. I think of all the things that she will miss. My little cousins, her first grandchildren after an 11 year drought of grandchildren, will turn cotillion age soon. Her four precious girls (Luisa, Schechaen, Kirsten, Alyssa) will turn 16 soon. She would have loved to see that. Tricia and I, hopefully, will be getting married and having babies soon. We are her two eldest granddaughters. She would have loved to see that. People keep telling me that she will.
But I'm selfish. I want to be with her and I want my children to know her. I want to see her smiling at me when I get married. I want to see her holding my first baby. I want her to watch my children have their first communion, go to their first day of kindergarten, and get ready for the prom.
Time just ran out for us.