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My grandma died today. The one who told me that I shouldn't be surprised if she died of a stroke soon. Despite her frailty, I had always thought she would live forever. At the same time, when we left for the last time at Christmas I cried a little when I hugged her as we left. I'm just glad I remember that the last thing I said to her was "I love you, grandma." And that she said, "I love you too." I feel the same as when Uncle Ted died, but worse.
I feel so much regret. I wish I had listened to her more, talked to her more. She always told me the same stories so I stopped listening as much after a while. Sometimes when I would ask her about certain things she would tell me something new, like about her childhood or her marriage. She was actually a literal 50s housewife. She was apparently pretty terrible at it, though who's really good at having five kids?
I wish I knew more about her. I always felt like I would have more time.
I wonder if she believed in God.
She was so proud of me. The last time my mom talked to her on the phone, my mom told her about how well I did at Quizbowl the other day. And she said, "Tell her congratulations! Of course, I'm not surprised, but don't tell her I said that. I don't want her to feel pressured."
I wish I knew more about her.
I wish I had talked to her on the phone.
My mom says she knew that I loved her but she would always say little things like, "I know you have better things to do than spend time with your old grandma." And sometimes I would silently agree. I wish I could go back and do things differently.
I should have talked to her more.
When I was little and afraid of the dark I used to imagine that the ghost of my cousin would protect me from monsters. I imagined that he would stand in the corner of my roomand keep watch so that nothing bad could happen. As I got older, of course, I needed him less and less. But sometimes I'd still think about him, but instead of just him it was his dad, too, my uncle. I guess as we get older we accumulate more ghosts. I have four now.