Lunch With My Grandma

I didn't grow up with much, but I was rich in other ways. My cup overflowed from the love my grandma had for me.

I spent several weekends at my dad's parent's house throughout my childhood. I never complained about visiting, because they had a basement full of toys. I'd attend Mass on Sundays and eat donuts with them afterward. When we'd get back to their house, we'd eat lunch together. Everyone had a designated seat when we ate any meal at the dining room table.

My favorite lunch at my grandparent's house was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches partnered with four Oreos® and a glass of chocolate milk. My grandma would cut the edges off the sandwich and then cut it diagonally - just the way I liked it.

I was young when my grandpa passed, and I don't remember much about him. Even after his passing, my grandma wouldn't let anyone sit in his seat at the table.

Years later, my siblings and I would be put into her care for a brief time through kinship care. My grandma was in her late 70s, and she so badly wanted to provide us with a better life. I was a teenager, so I was more concerned about staying in my room in an attempt to not deal with the world on the other side of my door. I was confused. I was angry. I couldn't comprehend what was happening in my life. 'What did I do to deserve the life I was dealt,' I thought.

She was a religious woman. She would always say God wouldn't give me more than I couldn't handle, and He was testing my faith. One day, I told her about the plot to kill myself while living under her roof. I can't remember what she said back to me, but I remember the pain she had in her eyes. Instead of making dinner that night, she made me a PB&J.

She reached out to hold my hand and said, "we don't have to talk. I'm here for you." We sat mostly in silence that night, but she reminded me that life wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be. Life could be as simple as eating a PB&J with her if I wanted it to be.

My grandma would find her eternal resting place the year after I tried to kill myself. Looking back on it now, I didn't know those were the moments I would miss the most - sharing my favorite snack with the one woman whose love for me stretched to the ends of the universe.

There were so many words left unsaid between us. I never did get to apologize for the ways I hurt her. I didn't get the chance to tell her how much I loved her and appreciated all she had given me in life. But, I think she knew as I got older, I would come to understand.

As an adult who knows how to cook, I still choose to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with four Oreos® and a glass of chocolate milk every now and again, because it makes me miss her a little less.

I genuinely looked up to my grandma as a role model. My life was full of temporary people and what felt like permanent chaos, but eating a simple lunch with her brought me comfort. There's no language large enough to express the love I have for my grandma. She motivated me to be the person I am today with plenty of PB&J sandwiches to help me grow along the way.