Gone Chances

I meant to write this three years ago.  My grandmother passed away that year, how I regretted many things.

I thought there were plenty of times for everything. Plenty of times to make out the time we had lost due to differences, misunderstanding, pain, anger, and lies. Plenty of time to get to know and to understand her – maybe her pain as well. I thought I had plenty of time to make new memories with her too – forgetting all brokenness due to anger and lies. I did not know that it could happen so soon. In fact, too soon.

Three years ago in August, grandma came home to stay with us for good.  She had been sick; pale, weak and very thin.  I didn’t expect her to see her at this state.  I wasn’t too happy about her coming back, but I knew it was about time to make out for the lost time.  Just seven months ago, I made that decision to forgive her. It wasn’t the hardest decision I made, but it was the most painful one. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life hating her, I wanted to love her, because she deserved to be loved, just as I deserved to be loved.

My grandmother and I shared the same name.  Elizabeth.  That was her baptism name, and my confirmation name.  Other than that, we shared nothing in common.  From what I know little about grandmother, she lived a hard life, and most of the time a painful one. I didn’t know when was the time she was really happy, probably she never did.  Her past was the reason of her brokenness, her brokenness was the reason of my anger.  She was never the grandmother I wish to have.  I wanted a loving grandmother, not a broken one.  I thought she had never loved us.

But, grandmother, she wanted everyone to be happy but I did not know whether she wanted happiness herself.  Dad made effort to give the happiness she deserved.  I tried, but failed.  Barely two months since she moved in with us, she passed away and we were left in disbelief. I thought maybe we could have another few years. After all, she was a strong person.  Dad had a great dream for her.  To move in our new house that Dad built himself; from his own money.  That did not came true.  And grandmother knew it all along, and it was the first time, I believed she was proud of us.

In her passing, I realised she did love us.  I was too blind to see and to understand it.

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