Time heals all wounds — these four little words are an umbrella for the many cliches people lean on when something unfortunate happens.
I admit, at some point time does heal. Somehow each day helps you feel like you’re being glued back together; every crack mended. But, then, there’s another turning point — a song, a date, a person, even a place, that reminds you of the loved one you lost. Those triggers force you to relive memories and play them on repeat.
At first, all you can do is smile and be glad to have those memories in which you and this person were happy… ecstatic even. Then you start missing them — your little talks and adventures — and end up somewhere between nostalgia and giving anything to have them back.
This happens to me quite often, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
It makes us human. It is okay to feel. But, usually I just shake it off… (Our girls Taylor, Mariah Carey, and Florence from Florence + The Machine have a point about shaking it off.) But, sometimes shaking it off isn’t enough.
Recently my grandmother came to visit from El Salvador. I love my grandmother, but it’s hard to ignore that with her come all the memories of my grandfather. He passed away from prostate cancer about eight years ago (when I was still in high school) and that day is still engraved in my heart.
I was in my last class of the day, Algebra 2, and I was working on an exercise with my group when my brother came in, hugged me and broke the news. He said, “Grandpa died.” I remember smiling with disbelief. I SMILED! Who does that?
I asked him if he was lying; I knew my brother would never play such a cruel joke, but a part of me wanted to put this all on him. I wanted it to be a lie. I wanted him to say that he was joking and that my grandparents were here.
Slowly, I felt my world sinking. I rushed to trade in my calculator for my phone and went outside to call my parents. I called my mom, then my dad, then my sisters, and got no answer from any of them. Why wouldn’t they pick up the phone? It was too much for me to handle. I broke down at the same time people started walking out of the classrooms. At a distance I saw my big brother walking towards me. Him just being there made it better. I knew I wasn’t alone.
The rest of the day was complete chaos. Seeing my dad in tears was the worst. But, seeing my family come together for my dad that was like a small ray of sunshine peeking through the darkness.
That night my dad and aunt left to El Salvador to be with their family. And at home we did the best we could to keep from falling apart. We actually all slept in the living room because we didn’t want to be alone.
The rest of the night was an experience of its own. My little sister talked with my grandpa in her sleep and I dreamt with him. We walked through places we’d been before. We talked and I told him that I wished I had told him I loved him more often. He told me not to worry that he knew.
I know it was a dream, but I do believe my grandpa came to visit each and everyone of us that night to say his goodbyes. And that, I will cherish for the rest of my life.
