When someone passes away, a complex range of emotions surfaces, shaped by the nature of the relationship. For me, grappling with the reality of my grandmother’s death feels almost surreal. It’s difficult to accept that I can no longer visit her or be there when she needed me. The feeling is a strange blend of loss and regret—a wish that I could have been present more often.
As a child, weekends with my grandparents were a treasured routine. Their home, with cable television and no strict bedtime, felt like a world apart. I would camp out on the couch, watching Nick at Nite until I drifted off, only to be gently woken by my grandmother’s breakfast the next morning. Together, we’d watch the Cowboys or the Rangers, play dominoes, snack on popcorn, or tune into Wheel of Fortune. By night, I’d find myself back in front of the TV, rewatching episodes of I Love Lucy as I fell asleep, feeling safe in the rhythm of her world.
In later years, illness began to steal that vitality from her. A stroke, lung surgery, and a gradual decline changed her slowly but relentlessly. She transformed from the strong matriarch I’d known into a more fragile version of herself, with a childlike vulnerability. Distance and time between our visits grew, and when I did see her, the woman before me seemed different. Yet, the connection—the special bond with her—remained. Sitting with her, I’d listen to her latest ailments and feel helpless, unable to ease her pain. I watched her fade, as if in a time-lapse I couldn’t slow down or reverse.
When my dad called last Wednesday to tell me she had passed, I wasn’t surprised. Life as a father and corporate professional had left little space, and I hadn’t been sure I’d make it. Yet, somehow, I was there with my family, able to say a final goodbye. Carrying her to her resting place and seeing her face one last time, I felt her presence deeply. In that moment, I sensed her telling me everything would be okay, reassuring me that we’d see each other again. Her love felt eternal.
While I couldn’t be there to ease her suffering, I was there to witness it end. I couldn’t lift her pain, but I carry her with me now—forever in my heart. I love you, Grandma. Until I see your smiling face again.