My great grandmother died this morning.
And I'm sad.
It's been 4 years since I saw her last, and 8 years since she had her massive stroke.
It was such a shock hearing that she had passed away.
It seems so surreal.
8 years ago, she had a massive stroke and almost died. The doctors gave her only 2 weeks to live.
As I said, that was 8 years ago.
At the beginning of the month, she caught pneumonia. The doctors said that she could go either way, but I knew that she was going to be ok.
She was a fighter.
But this morning, right after I came in the door from the gym, my grandmother called with the news.
I was.... shocked.
I didn't think she could die.
She was Muffmama.
The lady who, from as far back as I can remember, was as tough as they come. She never said I love you, she never cried, and she always had a ton of yummy cookies in her [pantry.
Even when she had the stroke, she was brave.
Her whole left side of her body was paralyzed, and still she tried to work with it.
She did physical excercises, and gained partial controll of her left side.
And now, she's gone.
And I'm crying again.
It's so hard to believe that after all this time, all of this work, and all of... everything, she's gone.
Never to come back.
And that makes me so sad, it's unbelievable.
I always saw her as the strongest lady I had ever known.
She was my pillar.
And she's gone.
I don't know why this is hitting me so hard.
My mom said that it wasn't a surprise, that we all knew it would happen.
But I didn't.
So, this was just a little blurb to get it off my chest.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Her
words bouncing off the corners of her mind
and thoughts that bring back memories.
her heart so fragile in that time
and wisdom was elusive.
but who am I to judge?
it was only me.
painting her story
writing her portrait.
love & hate
truth & lies
forgiveness & betrayal.
who knows that girl?
the girl inside.
she doesn't even know herself.
pain enters her body and engulfs her mind.
her heart changes from pure to corrupt.
no going back.
and her heart is like a late night bar.
emotions spill out on the floor
as the glass shatters all around the door
and thoughts that bring back memories.
her heart so fragile in that time
and wisdom was elusive.
but who am I to judge?
it was only me.
painting her story
writing her portrait.
love & hate
truth & lies
forgiveness & betrayal.
who knows that girl?
the girl inside.
she doesn't even know herself.
pain enters her body and engulfs her mind.
her heart changes from pure to corrupt.
no going back.
and her heart is like a late night bar.
emotions spill out on the floor
as the glass shatters all around the door
A Scene in my Head (I know, I need to name these)
A span of darkly lit street goes to the left and the right.
The young man emerges from an ordinary building in the shabby district, nothing distinguishing it from any of the others in the vicinity.
In the shadowed stoop to his left, an old and decrepit man lays still, quietly lamenting the loss of his right foot.
The peasants of the village pass before him, their backs bowed by the burdens and the stress of their miserable, meaningless lives.
A young woman on the corner to his right is screaming at the foot traffic, looking, searching, begging for help for her deathly pale child.
He, the strikingly attractive, well dressed young man, walks into the street.
The young woman pauses her wailing to gawk at the young man.
Her child gasps out a strangled sob, and she quickly returns to her pursuit of attention.
A cab goes by, calling out to the young man.
A silent shake of his head causes the cabby to quickly move on.
The young mother tries to hail it down, but he pays her no heed and speeds down the lane.
A few minutes pass before another cab cautiously creeps down the street.
The youth signals the taxi to pill up to the curb.
The young woman becomes silent in an act of respect to the well-off gentleman.
Once at the door of the taxi, the young man motions for the lady and the gasping infant to come close.
She does so with bulging eyes.
He quietly tells her to get in the cab.
She vigorously and resolutely shakes her head until her child utters a sudden cry of pain.
With a small flourish, he opens the car door and bows for her to get in.
She hesitantly does so with tears welling in her eyes.
He silently closes the door behind her.
Approaching the wary cab driver's window, he throws a large wad of bills on the passenger seat, adding that if he drops her off anywhere else than the front step of where she wants to go, he will deeply regret it.
The cabbie did not for one minute doubt it.
He speedily drove off, the woman in the back sobbing her gratitude.
He starts walking away down the street, past the old man, past the filthy children, past the poverty and stink.
A smile, like a secret joke, tugs at the corner of his mouth.
The peasants of the street watch watch as the quiet angel in disguise walks silently
The young man emerges from an ordinary building in the shabby district, nothing distinguishing it from any of the others in the vicinity.
In the shadowed stoop to his left, an old and decrepit man lays still, quietly lamenting the loss of his right foot.
The peasants of the village pass before him, their backs bowed by the burdens and the stress of their miserable, meaningless lives.
A young woman on the corner to his right is screaming at the foot traffic, looking, searching, begging for help for her deathly pale child.
He, the strikingly attractive, well dressed young man, walks into the street.
The young woman pauses her wailing to gawk at the young man.
Her child gasps out a strangled sob, and she quickly returns to her pursuit of attention.
A cab goes by, calling out to the young man.
A silent shake of his head causes the cabby to quickly move on.
The young mother tries to hail it down, but he pays her no heed and speeds down the lane.
A few minutes pass before another cab cautiously creeps down the street.
The youth signals the taxi to pill up to the curb.
The young woman becomes silent in an act of respect to the well-off gentleman.
Once at the door of the taxi, the young man motions for the lady and the gasping infant to come close.
She does so with bulging eyes.
He quietly tells her to get in the cab.
She vigorously and resolutely shakes her head until her child utters a sudden cry of pain.
With a small flourish, he opens the car door and bows for her to get in.
She hesitantly does so with tears welling in her eyes.
He silently closes the door behind her.
Approaching the wary cab driver's window, he throws a large wad of bills on the passenger seat, adding that if he drops her off anywhere else than the front step of where she wants to go, he will deeply regret it.
The cabbie did not for one minute doubt it.
He speedily drove off, the woman in the back sobbing her gratitude.
He starts walking away down the street, past the old man, past the filthy children, past the poverty and stink.
A smile, like a secret joke, tugs at the corner of his mouth.
The peasants of the street watch watch as the quiet angel in disguise walks silently
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