Rachel Writes

She used sew. My grandmother. She told stories about how she made this costume and that dress or these pants for my mother, my aunts, and uncle. She was tremendously talented. When I think about her, I think about how she did so much. Words like: Selfless, Passionate, and Stubborn swirl around my head. This memory of us sitting in the stands at a Rangers game knitting comes to mind. She was so happy to be sharing this with me. So happy that I was interested in it and wanted her to show me other stitches. I haven’t thought about that in a long time. I think about how she spoiled us on weekends and over summers. Grandma’s house was the shit. We could watch whatever movie, she fed us endlessly, Six Flags was on repeat, and the pool. I remember this huge dodge Ram truck? suv? two- door giant? She sat on two pillows just to see over the steering wheel. It was upholstered in this burgundy velvet-y? material. Or maybe it was navy blue. All I know is that it was huge and it was hot. But we had a blast. When I think of my grandma, I think of my aunt S*****. And I think of my cousin M*****. Those three were thick as thieves. Somehow over time they morphed into one. And somehow over time they seemed further away. At one point they were a constant in my life, and in this moment I feel like I blinked and my Aunt was no longer sick, no longer in pain, no longer with us. I blinked again and my grandmother, my memaw, my G ma, my Abuelita was gone. Guilt doesn’t embody the feeling I have when I think about her not being here. My grandma, this person who was always there in my childhood, I somehow left. I got busy.

I regret not spending more time. I took her time here for granted, thinking I would have more…of her. More time to soak up all of her stories, her recipes, her dance moves, my connection to myself. I’ve been told I’m like her. Usually people say that when I’ve said something they don’t want to hear or I’ve held firm on what I think or believe. I’ve been on the receiving end of my grandmother’s looks or words. Not often, but I have. It used to sort of bother me, but now I wear it as a badge of honor. She was so fearless and brave. She protected her family fiercely, but now I see she protected herself, too.

She didn’t make comments that made me feel guilty for only seeing her around holidays and birthdays. But I wonder now if she was hurt and wanted more of me too.

I know right now that I wish she was here. That this all happened too soon, too fast.

Grandma, I love you and miss you very much.