It's 12:56 in the morning on September 11,2009, just 12 hours, give or take a
few, into my immortal's spirit having said goodbye to this still yet difficult place. Losing her was something inevitable, yes, but necessary, I claim undeniably false. Even after playing this moment in my mind over and over again, I never thought my worst nightmare would manifest itself into broad daylight anytime soon. I cannot dance with these devils and their significant faces without you.
I hold fast to the courage and force that you, as a mother, instilled within me, as the spirit that surrounds me here today evokes our countless escapades, and I smile reluctantly towards another, yet that flash of an uncreated memory is nowhere in sight and granted, away from my tangible grasp. I realize how lucky I am as your granddaughter to have been blessed with such a piece of divine perpetual bliss upon my childhood. From our Big Mac's minus the Thousand Island dressing, to your remote control freakouts, "Now put on some CNN instead of this Nickelodeon", from you incessantly kissing the policeman's hand that summer when we got pulled over, on the way to your fictitious Disneyland, to that day at the courthouse when you proclaimed you knew English, "but not exactly".
If only the man in the moon would transport me back in time for just another Saturday afternoon in your sweet care, if only....
I am reminded of the toughest moment in my life, as my parents' love fell apart, it
runs rampant in my frightened mind as I lay, trouble dreaming, while you twist, a young, tantalizing, beautiful gypsy in my heart. You were there that tumultuous summer when I lost what I knew to be home, and as the hours beat away in my mind, I wish I were there as your courageous fortitude drifted away and out of what had been home to you. Thank you for saving my life, listening to my fears, and calming my adolescent tears. I will forever remain indebted, and inebriated off the beauty you as a woman, kind and motherly, exemplified within these tarnished moments of my existence. I find it sacred and bittersweet; I was fighting such sadness, refusing to wake into the start of a brand new day, as you took your nap after polishing off what became your last meal. You exhaled into heaven, as I inhaled into living the first day of the rest of my life, without you, unknowingly.
You were the first sunflower that bloomed within my desolate garden that
summer when my mother got sick. You uncompromisingly drove me to the city of hope
that first day of 8th grade, and you, you were my city of hope those latter summer days in and autumn days out. I wonder if I ever returned the persistent favors you granted me, without question, back to you.
I recall being a sleepless child upon one of the many beds in your orphanage.
I remember the smell of your hair, blown out forming beautiful gold ringlets at the ends. I reminisce eating chelo-kabob in your walk-in closet with little Jessica in tow, during family gatherings. I reflect upon meeting you and grandpa at the Northridge mall that simple Saturday with my father, and having pizza for lunch. Oh, how much you loved my father. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that alone.
I muse over your lavish black, sun-sparked golden dress at Sarah's bat mitzvah, and how mesmerized I was as an eight year old, the way it hung on your regal body...wishing I would grow to be as composed and unyielding as you.
I learn by heart where you would stash all your cigarettes, money, lipstick, and lighter...and no, it was not in a purse.
I keep in mind how you'd give me money on occasion and told me not to tell
grandpa...Sorry grandpa.
I'll never forget how I'd give you and grandpa tests to quiz your knowledge about
whatever the subject, and you'd always get A's, and we'd give grandpa F's to make you
laugh...
Your laugh, the right anecdote for any six-year-olds heartache.
I will never fail to hold on to your simplistic nature when I was in preschool...
you would ask me for directions to get me there on time, even though you knew where
you were going all the while.
If I could talk to you one last time, I'd ask, who else is to take pride in me as I
shoot for the stars? Who else is to drive aimlessly till we find some destination.. .maybe Vegas this time, or back to the meat market? Who else is to yell at grandpa because you sent him out to buy Pepsi and he came back home with a 12-pack of soda cans that had another woman on it (Princess Leah during The Star Wars Craze)...Who else?
Growing up, It was almost as if I only took breaths because it insured yet another
second in your arms. Grandma, I'll commit you to memory each and every time I look up, up at the heavens, and smile goodbye.
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