On October 15th of last year my grandmother died. Grandmother had been sick and in pain for some months, so her death was not a surprise and in some ways it was a relief and a blessing. But I was unbelievably saddened when she died. I had never felt this type or degree of sadness before.
My grandmother was an extraordinary woman. Her own parents died when she was a teenager, and she raised two younger sisters alone. Then her husband died while she was still in her thirties, leaving her with my mother, then only seven years old, and my uncle, then only nine. Still, she maintained a sense of humor and great dignity. As I grew up, my grandmother was always there for me. She listened to my joys and problems and always gave me good advice. She was never judgmental but always gave me unconditional love and much warmth. I will miss her a lot.
Part of my sadness, I think, was sadness for my mother who is now an orphan herself. She and my grandmother were always very cloth. Grandmother was the last family member of her generation. There is now a void in the family, and celebrations will always have an empty place.
I love my grandmother very much, and now she is gone. I was very, very sad when she died. I have overcome that sadness by now, but many little things remind me of her. Every once in a while something happens and I first think that I must tell Grandmother—that she will be interested or amused. Then I remember that Grandmother is gone, and I feel a twinge of sadness again.