Tribute 2

I can't sleep.

I can't sleep for the life of me. And i wish i had breakfast sausage. Brown sugar or maple syrup. Either would do.

Growing up, if one was to rise at an ungodly hour, one had the option of moseying on to dim sum.

I lived with my maternal grandma till i was 11. That was our thing. Our quality time.

Up till she was, like, 90, she would hike up to Pine Hill every morn, come rain or come shine.

In summer, when i was out of school, she'd take me. She'd show me off to her friends. They'd ooh and aah.

(Looks like i've already blogged about this before. Gotta love search engines.)

My grandma sewed me clothes. That was so cool. I remember this one black-and-white photo... It was my first birthday... or something. She was young then, only in her early 60's. She held me. Was not posing for the camera at all. She had this look... She was completely psyched she had me in her arms... Such intense love and excitement, i'll never forget it.

She had the most incredibly flawless skin. Her cheeks were akin to the surface of an hard-boiled egg. Aging well is an understatement! I'd tell her, and she'd laugh. She'd be like, "You're lying!" when what she meant was, "Go on!" : )

Her laugh was boisterous. As is mine.

I loved it. I love that i take after her.

Since i moved to the States, i'd see her about once a year. She'd get emotional every time i'd depart, implying it could be the last time.

"You always say that!" I'd respond, squeezing her gently and pressing my cheek against hers, totally oblivious of mortality and impermanence. "I'll be back next year, and you'll say that again!"

When she passed, i was grief-stricken. Cognitively, death should be such a familar concept. And yet it was like, Really? People die? People that i love and wanna be there forever?

I had to write to express what was the greatest loss i'd experienced to date.

My Dad got it published. My Mom shared the piece with a couple of coworkers. They wept.

I wish i had a soft copy of that. I bet i'd be pretty impressed today.

My grandma's laugh. Probably my favorite thing about her. I can still hear it on sleepless nights.