The First Woman I've Ever Loved

My maternal grandmother passed away when I was 9, and for almost two decades, every memory that I have of her smells like a fresh jasmine that she used to love so much. 

Everything that I do in this life, I imagine her being by my side. She has inspired me tremendously. 

Her strength, patience, and love as a woman, a mother, and a grandmother taught me how to live within my own family. When she left, we crumbled into pieces and sometimes, we became our own monsters. She was our sanity. 

Honestly, I don't have a lot to remember her by. I get the same flashbacks all the time:

• When I put my tooth under her pillow
• When she told me I was beautiful
• When she asked me to sit down with her to eat crackers and have coffee
• When she and everyone else first taught me how to eat ambuyat
• When I accidentally saw the maid giving her a bath
• The day of her passing

I guess I only remember them because they were significant to my growth as a person. Plus I was too young to remember much then. I never knew that she was sick, or how many times we visited her at the hospital or what her voice really sounded like. I didn't have that memory of her. 

One thing I never told anyone was that, whenever I do my workout, I replay the moment we walked through the hallway, to her ward and right straight to her room where it was surrounded by everyone sobbing and she was just lying peacefully on the hospital bed. It was the first time I'd ever experienced the loss of a loved one. I didn't cry until they took her in a casket and I couldn't see her face anymore. I think about it because it makes me want to keep going and because I feel like I was teaching myself not to fall apart every time I think about it. 

But lately, I kept getting the flashback of seeing her getting bathed. For all my life, my grandma had always been in a wheelchair. One afternoon, as I was about to head upstairs, I saw the guest bathroom door opened and when I went to look, I saw my maid carrying her off from her chair to the toilet seat where she would then bathed. I just stood there quietly. I never knew the significance of it. But I felt this dull ache inside, and I began to cry. I never knew she was sick, and that made me so angry at myself because then I'd tell her what a beautiful person she was to me, and just how much I have loved her. 

Sometimes I wonder why we remember certain moments so vividly, and forget the rest. I believe in reasons, and I believe all that I've remembered of her, would help me become a better person. Perhaps I took too long to process the emotions I felt then, but I'm no longer numb. I feel what needs to be felt, and I embrace the waves of it. 

I'm sorry for the words I never said, for the moments I could've cherished more and for the times I didn't believe in my self-worth because you saw me and you loved me. I pray you rest beautifully, and without pain. I pray we meet again as the family that we are.