I've had a pretty great life growing up. My mother raised me all alone ; well , not really. I can't ignore the love and support we both had from our family. My dad split for "x" motives, leaving us to fight together. It was the two of us against the world.
I never missed him in my life. On the contrary, I felt complete without him. My mother gave me the love of both parents, and raised me better than ever.
I had everything that I could ever want, and what she couldn't get for me ; because of money issues, etc. ; I didn't mind not having.
'Till the age of 4, I lived in a small 'hood' in the department of Montevideo. I never really paid attention to it, as a child. I went to school, got home, played, and slept. It was a rigorous routine for me that I followed everyday, ha-ha.
In 2000, visas were being handed out here in Uruguay, for people who wanted to travel to the "first world country" known as U.S.A. At that time, we had just lost my great-grandmother to skin cancer. I can't remember much of her, other than what I've been told and what I see in pictures. I chose, all my life, to remember the image of the woman with big amounts of curly gray hair on her head, and a smile that can make you believe in anything.
Why do I want that to be the way I remember her?
Because, I'd rather picture her full rosy cheeks, the wrinkles on her skin that had no intent of hiding her age, and the blissfulness that would be brought on to those who approached her. That is a better memory, rather than the one that my family faced in reality.
Like I mentioned before, I don't remember much, but as I grew up, my questions about my childhood got more and more persistent.
The day arrived when I decided to ask about my great-grandmother's illness. She passed away, at the age of 91. By the time it was discovered, it was already too advanced. My mother wanted to keep out the details but I begged her to tell me. I wanted to feel like I was there, not as an annoying 4 year old but how I am now, with enough knowledge to take on such a matter. Though, even at this age, I don't think that sight is accepted. At any age? I doubt it. It's not something I wish someone to see, or have happen to them. The way she described every second that my great-grandmother was in the hospital, was almost unbearable to listen to, like I was able to live those moments in my head, as if reliving a memory.
The tears my mother shed, were tears that I did too.
"I was the only granddaughter to actually show up and take care of her. No one, visited her, because they claimed to not want to see her in so much pain, and yet, I think more pain was what she felt without the presence of her loved ones supporting her."
My mothers words, are etched into my brain.
"When I walked into her room, I would always be surprised that a woman who was once so strong and so willing, was in such a state. You can't imagine something like that, not even close. Her face was unrecognizable from all the operations, and of course, how would it be possible to recognize someone with half of their face almost gone? The fact that you can see that section not covered with skin, was the worse part. But I looked past it, because I knew who it was, and she was and always will be a part of me."
What would have happened if they had discovered this earlier?
I mean, no one lasts forever, but did she really have to leave this world like that?
I've dreamed with her, that I was sitting by the hospital bed, and she was trying to talk to me, though she couldn't. I would calm her down and tell her that I wish I knew her better. I reassure her every time that, she isn't remembered as just a family member who died from cancer, but a woman who worked all her life, in poverty, to bring up her children. Someone to look up to, not someone to pity.
"There came a time, when she had spent so much in that hospital that she started to get impatient. She would tell me, tell her daughter, that it was time for her to go. Time to give in to this cancer, and let God help with the rest. It was her wish, what she desired mostly at the moment. But we were so selfish. I regret now, what I thought was a good idea back then."
Aren't we all though, in those situations? Selfish , I mean.
Who wants to tell the doctors to stop everything they are doing and put an end to their loved one's life?
To think, she wouldn't have had to spend so much time connected to tubes that feed her, and remove all matter from inside her.
To think, she might have left with at least a little dignity and peacefulness knowing that her misery would end.
Sure it meant not seeing each other again, but soon we would all be reunited in paradise again. Or at least that is what I would like to think. I would like to imagine a paradise, one with infinite happiness, and one that allows you to eternally be with anyone you please.
I know , I'll see her again soon, along with some other people who are not with me today physically...
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