My Grandmother

My grandmother, the one that cares for everyone, the one that lost her beloved husband, the one who tells her grandchildren to be good. She always sees my family off when we go back to the area my father is assigned. We see her, crying and sniffing and wave to her as if we would never see her again. She waves until she can’t see any of us any longer. I love her, but I just can’t bring myself to talk to her on the phone. I can't keep treating her like this.

Her heart broke when she lost her husband, and it can’t take much more. At the funeral, my mother and my grandmother both moaned and cried all through the day. I cried and felt bad, I never really paid attention to him and he was always there and listening. He cared for everyone, and when he saw us coming into their home, he was really happy. My mother always made sure he was comfortable.

My grandmother is the only grandmother I have left. No grandfathers left in this world. I hope she will make it to the next time I see her, or she’ll be gone and both my parents will regret a time they passed up an offer. Sometimes I look out the window and think to myself. I’m lucky I still have her; I don’t want to see my mother upset and my grandmother in a black box of death.

The next time my father asks me if I want to talk to her, I won’t pass up the offer. I’ll say yes right away without thinking, and before it’s too late.