She has seen transformations go from carriages to electric cars, letters to iPhones, panty-hoses to booty shorts, and daily outdoor markets to grocery home delivery. My “abuelita” Isabel, had seen almost a century of life and world changes.
Until two Decembers ago she had a ritual morning routine that was delicate and quite feminine. With the help of my patient aunt, Negra, she would always wears her pearl earrings, Vaseline on her eyebrows to keep them tamed, and red lipstick on her lips. She spritz a little bit of Tommy Hilfiger on her neck and palms. To finish, she would ask for a folded tissue to insert inside her sweater sleeve. She would tell me it’s for crying or her nose!
Before she was ready, my aunt would hand her a hand held mirror. She would sit by the window light and admire her portrait reflection to make sure everything was up to par. Ladies and gentleman, she was a beautiful flower.
At the age of 99, my granny’s senile dementia had escalated leaving her stripped of those simple pleasures such as pearl earrings and mirror contemplations. She remembered the past with vivid detail, but the present was vague and daunting sometimes. Her smile was as rare as her memory. No longer did she enjoy the outdoors or ask for a tissue to put inside her sleeve. Instead she talked about the visions she was seeing (maybe from another dimension), water everywhere, and children tormenting her.
The food she no longer enjoyed, she would spit out. In her wheel chair, her stare was empty. I would be lying if I told you the transformation process had been a stroll through the park, but I curtsy before her and my family once and a million times for being such warriors.
Last October I took a very conscious trip to Colombia to visit her. The decision was instant and without any hesitation. You see, when my father told me that my grandmother had expressed she was tired (of living) and that it was taking too long, those words stuck to my heart. They stung like rubbing alcohol to an open wound. In the midst of her dementia they felt lucid and clear. She knew exactly what she was saying. Never before had I felt her presence leaving us. I always had this indescribable confidence that she was going to stick around for a while. It wasn’t until the beginning of this year that I felt something different. I would describe it as an emptiness or a hard hit into reality. 99 years IS a long time, she has been sticking around FOR A WHILE, and soon she would pass.
So I took this trip. I packed my bag and boarded the plane to Colombia. I rather have spent some days sitting by her side, enjoying her presence of being alive, rather than invest on a plane ticket to see her in a casket awaiting her cremation.
On the plane I told myself that yes, my grandmother would always be the woman that hid coffee flavored candies under the television. Yes, she would always be the woman that called me her gypsy. And yes, she would always laugh in joy on Christmas, being that it was her favorite time of year. Isabel would never stop being that strong, gentle woman. Yet, in that moment on the plane I vowed to embrace who she was at present time, no matter her state.
I visited her every day for 10 days. During those days I learned that the afternoons were better for her because she slept until noon. Such a teenager! When I came into her room, I would lay next to her giving her the tightest hug. After she would get ready for the day, I’d cup her face gently with my hands telling her she looked stunning in her new flowery pjs. Her favorite meal of the day was dessert. She may have lost her memory, have little appetite for eccentric foods, but she would eat ice cream with a new found appreciation. Soft ballads were her new jam. She spent most of the day sitting in this large chair next to the window. I made sure I sat directly in front of her so she could see my face with the little sight she had left.
I spent hours telling her about my traveling tales and ice cream escapades. She marveled seeing pictures on my phone. On certain occasions she uttered things to me I didn’t really understand. I listened and honored her voice! When she felt stiff, my hands gently took hers with a massage. She seemed to like it, because she asked for more the day before I left.
On occasions, I would elevate her feet. Right there she felt this freedom to bend her knees back and forth. I think she saw a sense of usefulness with her body. We had little math quizzes which she surprisingly aced. I didn’t. She slept a lot. During those times I read my book and watched Turkish soap-operas with my aunt.
One evening, after looking at some photos on my phone I invited my grandma to take a selfie with me. Reaching my arm over her shoulder in a warm embrace, we both looked at my little phone screen and smiled. That evening my dad asked how my day had turned out, to which I responded with the picture. He looked at it and told me: “Your grandma must like your company, because she rarely looks at the camera or smiles in pictures.” My heart is still warm holding on to that moment.
She did pass. On April 29th, 2019 my grandma took her last two gentle breaths and died. In her bed, with her hair combed, rarely a wrinkle, and in one of her most elegant pajamas. In the midst of it all she died a natural death. No monitors, medical tubes, medications, or terrible body illnesses. She left this Earth like a Queen!
Thinking about her death brings both sadness and calmness. A very strange dichotomy for me. Calmness because after 5.5 months of deterioration and 3 weeks of pure agonizing, she is at rest. I for one did not want her to stay on this Earth longer than she was meant to be.
However, my heart swells. Regardless of how much I prepared myself for this moment, there is an emptiness. An emptiness that is highly intensified by the fact that I cannot physically be in Colombia and hold my father’s hand. The lack of my presence in a time of hardship is difficult when I live abroad. In the past 3 weeks my grandmother defied all laws of nature. Even without accepting any food or beverage she held on until the last breath and I mean her absolute LAST BREATH. Her body was a true representation of skin and bones. It was time and we all knew it.
A while back I called her to say hello and she asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was cleaning all day. She answered: “gracias, gracias!” We all laughed because she thought that I was the cleaning lady. She was thanking me for my hard labor. That laughter is what I choose to value. I will not block the moments where she did not remember who I was. I treasure her hand holding mine very tightly and her “mijitas” when she was concerned that I was not eating enough. My grandmother has given me so much love, care, attention, lessons and more than enough money for “candies”. She invested in the quality of our time together. I believed her to be the glue that held our family intact. I thank her and I thank the Universe for her existence in the entirety of my life.
With much love and peace,
~M
🌷🌟🌹💙💚💛🧡❤️🌟🌺