...is an odd thing, isn't it?
One moment, you think you are fine.
Then you recall a fond memory, or find a handwritten note while flipping through an old journal and it all comes rushing back.
Time, as we experience, is linear.
Memories, for me, are a collection.
Of laughter, stories, love, and time spent together.
My grandmother leaning over to tuck me in. Her "bird face".
Instructions on how to prep the potatoes to yield the perfect mashed potatoes for the Thanksgiving feast.
Most of all, of wisdom imparted in passing.
Of all of the beautiful times we held concerts and she laughed and clapped, and cheered.
When I would call her and tell her I did well on my exam in school, and she would tell me "My babies are the best!" without wavering, since she always had more faith in us than we ever had in ourselves.
The beauty, elegance, gentle grace, tenacity, kindness, and latin fire.
All of this was my Abuelita.
She was, and always will be, an integral part of me.
My inspiration - my encourager, my intercessor, my friend.
If I had one more day, I'd hug her a little tighter, stay a little longer, and (try) to get her to sit and visit more persistently. She hardly ever slowed down, but when she did, those were golden moments.
Sitting on the couch together, holding hand, peaceful. Happy.
At rest.
And I know she is, looking down, smiling. Whole.
I love you Abuelita - con todo mi alma. Siempre.
~Lysandrita
