**this may have typos, I typed this on my phone and didn’t proofread
I didn’t think it could hurt this much. My last living grandparent, my mom’s mother passed away this morning. I knew it would happen one day. Most of my lifetime I had only two living grandparents because my maternal grandfather had died in an accident when my mom was a teenager, and my paternal grandmother died of an illness when I was about a year old. My paternal grandfather died in May 2010 after battling Alzheimer’s for a while. He was 84, so he lived a nice long life, but I did cry because I never got a chance to meet him; I had only spoken to him on the phone, and he always remembered all of our birthdays, until the year leading up to his death. I was sad, but I quickly came to peace with it knowing how much he ha accomplished; including his novel on the cocoa plant that I still long to read. I found out he died as a sophomore in college. I was finishing up the year, I had just finished pledging my sorority, and we had a senior sendoff cookout for the seniors. My phone was partially off, so when my mom called me and I missed it, I couldn’t call back. Eventually she texted me telling me he died, and I kind of just paused a little bit. My friend Shannon was with me, we were walking to the picnic and I asked to use her phone. I spoke to my parents, and kept it together for a few minutes. I started feeling the sadness come in, and I don’t really cry very often, and I certainly don’t cry in front of people. I told my sisters I needed to take a walk. I remember one particular sister (who is no longer a member) scoffing and saying, “what the hell? She’s taking a walk in the middle of our picnic?” While I hadn’t told her what was wrong, that really annoyed me. I took a walk, found a bench, and just cried for about 5 minutes. By the time I had gotten myself together and returned to the picnic, Shannon had told everyone, and they came to hug me and offer condolences. I didn’t understand how I could feel so much for a man I never met, but I realized that’s just love. My father seemed very peaceful about it when I spoke to him, and that made me feel better about it.
Today, my dad an brothers took my aunt to JFK airport in New York so she could go back to Nigeria. My mom called me as I was waking up, and she told me that her mother died. I instantly woke up and just said, “What?” She had been sick for a while but I honestly thought she’d get better. She had diabetes, and it had taken toll on her body over the years. My mom was planning to go see her for the first time in 25 years in September. But she died. She’s gone. She was only 68, my mom will be 50 in October.
She died at 68 years old of a completely manageable disease. That really hurts. I will forever be angry that my mother couldn’t see her. I will forever be angry that the embassy didn’t let her come to the United States. I will forever be angry that my mom has to feel that kind of pain for a woman who never even reached 70 years old. I’ve been crying on off all day simply because I see my mom’s tears. My mom does not cry. She’s kind of like me (well I’m like her) when it comes to crying. I just wish I had met her. I had only spoken to her once on the phone by accident. She called the house when my mom wasn’t home. We didn’t speak to her because it’s expensive to call Nigeria and my grandma didn’t have a stable phone. She also didn’t speak great English, but now thinking about it, I wish it was different. But it’s alright. This was supposed to happen, and we can’t be upset at God for that.
Pray for my mom.