Bittersweet

July 29, 2020. Today is my paternal grandmother's birthday, and she is turning 74. It’s such a blessing to reach this age, and I’m grateful for her life. But today also marks a bittersweet memory. It’s the anniversary of the day my maternal grandmother transitioned to Heaven.

About eight years ago, she lost her battle with lung cancer. I remember the moment so clearly. I was sitting in front of the TV when the phone rang. It was my mom, and she told me my grandma didn’t make it. I just froze, not knowing how to react. Eventually, I went to the bathroom and sat there, trying to force myself to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Maybe I was numb. Maybe I was in shock.

As time passed, one memory kept replaying in my mind. I always pictured myself going back to Jamaica and bringing gifts for my family there. I’d always said I’d get my grandma a watch, a small token of my love and appreciation. But she left before I had the chance to give it to her, and that thought stayed with me. Leaving a void in me.

Fast forward to last year, and all the grief I had bottled up finally came pouring out. I remember crying so hard, overwhelmed by the thought of how kind and loving she was. She was the nicest person ever.

What saddens me the most is knowing that my mother, the person I care about most in this world, is in pain because she lost her mother. It hurts to see her hurting and not being able to comfort her. Knowing she lost her best friend and carries that grief every day is a pain I feel deeply, too.

Now, here we are on this bittersweet day. I’ll celebrate my paternal grandmother’s birthday, a moment of joy and gratitude. But I’ll also feel the weight of grief on my maternal side. It’s a bittersweet reminder of loss and love.