The Hard Truth

I get that my grandmother has been sick for a while. I knew that the end was getting closer. I put off visiting in the nursing home. It's been too hard. The spunky bad-mouthed grandmother I knew was gone. In her place was a shell the looked like her - but didn't hold any of her memories. She doesn't remember me. She doesn't remember walking aimlessly through Old San Juan with me. Stopping to visit friends. Telling me stories about her childhood. The good ones: when she would skate through the brick streets. Or even the sad ones: when her parents passed away. She was only 14. All the great things we shared are gone to her. It saddened me that she couldn't remember me. to be honest, I was angry too. Not at her. But at whatever higher being that is out there. Growing up, my close family was limited. My dads family didn't care about me. But Abuela did enough for me to fill the void they left. And now, it was gone. I couldn't bare seeing her like that. It was just too hard.

I kept postponing the visit. Thinking I had more time. Promising next time, I would see her. I drove down to Miami or Orlando so many times, without making the time for her. The woman who dropped everything to have me over all summer. I couldn't' make time for her. Now I have to make the time.

Last week she ended up in the hospital. The doctors told what what we've known but didn't want to face. She doesn't have much longer. Anywhere from two weeks to maybe two months. There's a good chance my visit with her will be my last, and she won't even know I'm there. That's a lot to process. My Dad said it's better to say good bye, while they can still hear you. I don't know if that's true. I guess we will wait and see. I'm not ready to say good bye. But I'm not given much of a choice here.

What I do want to say is Thank you. The words I rarely spoke growing up. Thank you for being there. Not just for me, but for my mom. Thank you for teaching me strength. A woman alone with 4 kids in those days was unheard of - but you did it. Thank you for giving me freedom when mom wouldn't let me breath. Sticking up for me when mom was being unreasonable. Thank you for letting me make fun of you - all you did was call me a 'cabrona' as you laughed and walked away. Thank you for teaching me to curse! Even now towards the end - you still have the energy to insult people and make the rest of us laugh. I wish I had been a better grand-daughter and appreciated you when it meant something.

I promise I will say this to you in person - even if you don't know I'm there. I love you.