And waiting you will be free some day

13 Jun

 

Well my grandmother is back home for now…

 

The year my very first cousin was born, I remember my mom pulling me out of school on Fridays, driving the 3 hours to the tiny town where she grew up and spending weekends in the hospital. Back then, I went more because my mom was the only person who could care for me and my diabetes. I loved my grandma, but I don’t think I always understood the seriousness of her health condition. I loved going out to dinner with my grandpa and sampling every restaurant surrounding the hospital, doing art projects to decorate her hospital room, and riding in rental cars. I’ve continued to be the most willing person to accompany my mom on the long trips to and from Pennsylvania as the years have gone by.

Death was rarely on my mind back then, but as I’ve gotten older and the hospital stays have gotten more frequent there is a little part of me that wonders if this is the last one. My grandmother knows it’s coming. I probably shouldn’t type those words. But they are true. It will happen. I’m scared. I’ve cried about it. I faced it with a friend. But I know I still won’t be ready when it happens. I tell myself, she’s had eighty plus great years. She was the premature baby sleeping in a shoe box next to the oven to keep warm who became the greatest Nana a girl, her sister, and three cousins could ever ask for.

If you ask my cousin, MJ, who Nana’s favorite is he would say himself. The truth is, it’s me. I’m not just saying this, I know because she’s told me. My grandmother has always been one of my biggest supporters. She gets me on a level that very few do. She allows me the room I need to express myself, even when she disagrees, and is always at the top of the list for biggest fan in all that I do. She’s strong. She’s creative. She’s warm and caring. She’s everything I hope to be and more. I love her so much I can’t even figure out how to explain it.

We have this book that saved my life when I was suffering from depression in early high school. It’s a journal for mothers to give to their daughters, or daughters to give to their mothers for them to return. My mom gave it to my grandmother more than few (maybe 10) years ago to fill in and she returned it a few years after that. There are pages and pages of questions and the answers are the stories of my grandmother’s life. I’m just glad that she’s passed down so much to my mom and in turn to me because one day she won’t be here, but I know it will be okay because she’s already given me so much more than she could even imagine.

 

Motherland – Justin Nozuka

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