Last September, my grandma went to be with Jesus. This feels like déjà vu because Nanay (my maternal grandma) passed away last year. This year, it was my paternal grandma, Lola (that’s Tagalog for grandma). She wasn’t very religious or spiritual, though she accepted Jesus a few times in her life and went to both Christian and Catholic services on special occasions. She’s at peace now, and for that, I’m thankful because she had some struggles the last few months of her life. The best legacy she left me was love for reading. She had immigrated to the USA with my grandpa and most of their kids. My dad and aunt stayed in the Philippines with their families. Lola sent us books, which I devoured. My sisters and I wrote her letters, in English – she might have required it since she was a teacher – to help us practice. We grew up bilingual and were above our reading levels when we finally moved to the USA and entered school. Lola helped us out a lot, in so many ways. But my fondest memories of her was when she took us to the library to get our very own library cards and to participate in the summer reading program. Remembering is bittersweet, making me smile and cry at the same time. I no longer have any living grandparents, and I keep thinking about goals I haven’t accomplished that I wish I did when my grandparents were alive so we can celebrate together.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels drained. Not renewed at all. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be learning in this season. Perhaps, I’m learning it but don’t yet have the words to describe it. I’m trying to grab hold of any moments of joy, hoping I accumulate enough to make it through to…a new normal? A better milestone? Something?
I guess that’s where I’ll you with this post. The world hasn’t recovered, yet, and nobody knows what recovery will look like. Therefore, grab hold of any moments of joy. Accumulate them. Celebrate whatever and whenever you can.
