Thicker than Water
My grandma had a health scare recently so it was with trepidation that I dialed her number, fearing the frailty I might hear in her voice.
But true to form, she was snacking away at Japanese sweets and conducting spoken poetry as she began comparing me to a young flower. She even made up a little ditty about it and being her progeny, I stepped right in and began belting an improvised song comparing her to a white rose. Then my dad rudely intercepted and told me that grandma had to go see the priest, breaking my crescendo.
So we said goodbye with her parting words being, “I love you, and to me you’ll always be that little girl who would sing and dance around the living room”.
That made me want to simultaneously cry and laugh. It’s amazing how many of her traits I’ve inherited-from her love of sweets, to a penchant for song, dance, and most of all reading. Whenever I visit her, she’ll whisk me off to her bookshelf where she picks out a book she’s currently reading, and describes the plot and characters, gesticulating all the while as if the story is unravelling before our very eyes. I’d love for my grandchildren to remember me the way I’ll remember her-with something sweet always stored in my purse, breaking out into song every so often, and eyes twinkling with the love of stories and characters.
I gulped down a lump of emotion as I told her that I loved her too.