THE OLD JOURNAL

A long time ago, my grandparents went to Mexico for their honeymoon.

Grandpa was the only child, he grew up to be a tall man, with a lot of knowledge, his profession was accounting. Grandma, on the other side was the last of five children, and the only girl. She was raised like a princess with a lot of men in a farming house. She grew up to be a housewife like many other women at that period.

She loved to write. She was with a journal at hand all the time. She wrote so many beautiful things: her adventures of childhood, things she learns as a woman, the day grandpa and she were introduced, the marvelous time they had together during their courtship, their wedding. She expressed, in her writing all the loved they had for each other, and of course, the honeymoon trip to Mexico.

While they were in Mexico my grandfather bought everyday a Marigold flower to give her, for this was her favorite flower, and he knew it would make her happy. With love and heed, she saved each Marigold inside the journal, until there were twelve Marigolds in total.

They were in their late 20's when my father was born. Grandma always told us that he was the most wonderful and precious baby she had ever seen in her life. And by the way he was cute as a button.

When dad was still a little child, grandpa went to work. It was fall and the weather was terrible. While he was coming back home on that stormy night grandpa could not see the road ahead and had an accident, unfortunately he died 2 days later. Because of this unfortunate event, he left his little family without his existence.

My grandmother was saddened by the passing of Grandpa, but she was a strong woman and dedicated her life to raise her son. Grandma was also a stubborn woman; everything must be her way. She never married again, since she was not interested in having another man by her side, the loved for grandpa was still vivid in her heart even after many years.

Because of this, my father was raised without a father figure in his life, but with all the love and tenderness grandma had for him, he did not need one.

Time passed by and grandma was diagnosed with dementia. Still, she remembers her past like she was living it now. Many times, we would find her looking at her old journal, reading the memories of the twelve days in Mexico with grandpa and crying with the Marigold flowers in her hands.

One day the journal disappeared nobody could find it. Years passed and we forgot about the journal and all the things inside of it. Grandma died in her bed while sleeping, of old age.

After her passing we were cleaning the house, we found so many wonderful things she kept. But the old journal was nowhere to be found. We took everything with loving care, even some boxes that were hidden in the attic. We took them as they were and left the house without checking what was inside of them.

Many years later my father passed away. I was looking inside the house, and remember all the memories he kept from grandma. While looking I saw a wooden box hidden under some books. I was surprised for the wooden box had the journal inside. Apparently, dad found the journal and kept it for himself, he did not say anything to us.

After all these years finally, the journal was found. As I started reading all the memories of each page, some of the dried Marigold flowers she always cried over, fell on my lap. It was such a beautiful memory of my beloved grandma.

As I read the journal, I realized she did not stopped writing after grandpa died. I read all about the adventures they had and all the loved they shared. She wrote about my dad growing up without a father, my dad's friends, about how he grew up, his school graduation, his achievements at college and work, when my parents met, their wedding and about us, her grandchildren.

But her writing did not stop even there. She wrote while her dementia was starting to fade her memory. She knew that it was going to be difficult for the family and wrote things she did not want to forget.

She wrote these words at the end of the journal:

"I know my mind is fading, I know in my state of mind I will forget most of the things I want to remember. But I know one thing for sure, I will never forget the love of my life. My love for him was so intense that thinking of him got me to where I am at this moment. All these years I have been missing him so much he was my strength and my life partner the one and only for me. I will keep the memories of my son growing up, the love of my grandchildren and how great they were while I was still lucid. Yes, I might forget many things, people will laugh or maybe get mad at me about what I say, or because of the things I will do, they might not have patience, probably yell at me, and repeat many times things for me to understand, I likely would not express myself the way they want me to since I cannot understand what they asked me, this illness is little by little is getting worst. But nothing will matter since the memories of my childhood, of him, my family, all the adventures we had, and the Marigold flowers are still together inside in the pages of this old journal. That way the memories will last forever. That way the memories will last forever and will remind my family of all the things I had through my life."

I cried while reading her written words. She never had a complaint written, never said, or told anyone a word of the sadness she kept inside after losing grandpa.

I have now the journal with everything inside, I keep it as the most wonderful treasure that my grandmother left us. I still read sometimes the journal and find a Marigold flower falling on my lap so frail, so delicate, so old but still with so much passion involved in a memory of a long time ago when my grandparents went to Mexico for their honeymoon.