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To Infinity and Beyond

by Adri Soto 8 months ago in humanity
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Something to remember you by

Grandma,

It was lucky to have seen you,

To have known your light.

We were lucky to grow with you,

To know you as you were,

All that you remain.

I’ll always remember the light in your eyes,

The comfort you offered in the hardest of times.

You’ll always be over my shoulder,

What an honor that will be,

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep making you proud.

I know that you’re gone,

But you’ll live on in me.

All the hearts that you touched in your life,

Will forever hold onto a bit of your light,

You never judged a single soul,

What made you amazing will never spoil.

Time won’t take that away.

This world can be discerning,

Confusing and so dark,

But you’ve created something

That can never be replaced.

A path to somewhere better,

A smile no one can erase.

You’re more than words,

More than a million sleepless nights.

You are everything,

The sun, the moon, all that lays in between,

I love you infinitely.

I wrote this for you. I sang it at your celebration of life. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The church was full of people who loved you the same way I did, and I watched them as they watched me. Tristan was supposed to play guitar behind me so it wouldn’t be awkward, but he smashed his hand in the door at Village Inn the night before. He felt so bad that he couldn’t play, so instead, he stood behind me at the pew. You always wanted me to meet somebody great, you’ll be happy to know we worked out. We have a baby now; I think you would absolutely love her. She’s smart, funny, beautiful, and just the sweetest human I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

I wish you were here so I could tell you everything. I remember the last couple of times we got to visit you. We weren’t allowed to hug you because you were too fragile, and that hurt… a lot. I never got to hug you goodbye. I understand now why people say to hold onto your loved ones as you knew them, not as they were at the end, because you weren’t the same person. You were still you, but a different version. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get how small you looked in the bed the last time I saw you. You were always the strong one, the invincible one, the one who could do anything you put your mind to. When I was growing up, I thought you were a superhero, and honestly, I still do. You’re a superhero whose legacy will never die, but whose time came too soon.

That week in September was…difficult to say the least. Uncle Josh came up, my mom, Tristan, Tali, Grandpa; all six of us in this house that was infinitely full of love and joy, that suddenly felt so empty. We were playing magic downstairs, I know that I should’ve spent every minute with you, but I couldn’t. It was too hard. Magic felt like a step out the door, to a dimension where you were teaching me how to garden and how to cook (things that didn’t stick by the way, I’m so sorry). Grandpa came down and looked at us quietly, we knew what it meant. We walked into the bedroom and sat on the floor; the bed was yours.

I picture this scene a lot, it's one of the few moments that is burned into my head and plays like a broken record. Tristan and I sitting by the door, my mom by the vanity, grandpa standing by your side. We were looking at a photo album and telling stories about you. I wish I could paint it. If I could then maybe it wouldn’t feel so heavy. I remember walking up to you, you could barely open your eyes and your hand rested on mine. You looked me in the eyes and with all the energy you had left, said “I love you.”

It was the last words you ever said to me. You died a week later.

It feels weird to be that close to someone… but you were one of the few I had. I always felt like an outsider to everyone else, but even through the things you didn’t understand or didn’t like, you still supported me. I wish with every fiber of my being that I had said that to you when you were alive because it would have mattered more then. In the days of my first hospitalization, you brought me a blanket a support group knitted you. You drove for an hour to be there that day. Don’t worry, I still have the blanket.

I took you for granted for so long and I’m so sorry for that. You were my rock for so long and I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t know how to be a mom without you, how to be an adult without you. My daughter is going to grow up without the most important person in my life around to hear her first words or see her first steps and I just don’t think that’s fair.

You fought so hard.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: I miss you every day. Your excitement over Crackpots and the cookie jar we made for grandpa, the fact that your favorite picture was of me at five years old holding onto your wedding dress with a face of pure anger at the world.

I like to think that wherever you are you can smite people, with lightning bolts or something of that nature. Not that you were vindictive, but you were protective of those you loved. Tristan’s convinced that you’re my guardian angel, and I don’t think he’s wrong.

You’ll be happy to know we plan on getting married the same day you and grandpa did. If there is anyone whose path I want to follow in love, it's yours. You and grandpa were perfect, you made young me believe that fairy tales weren’t far off and that people are good, always.

This is a long-winded way of saying that I love you. I know you’re somewhere better, somewhere where you’re not in pain anymore. I’ll always keep a part of you with me. Your kindness, your strength, your joy; you are my hero in every sense of the word.

Love,

Adri

humanity

About the author

Adri Soto

Sometimes the greatest joys in life are in the worlds we like to get lost in. I enjoy creating them far too much and am always open to feedback :)

24-year-old aspiring writer with a daughter to hopefully one day impress

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