On 29 November, at 4 in the morning, my grandma drew her last breath.
She was not alone, but she wasn't surrounded by all her loved ones either. She had been struggling for a while and lately all she wanted was to see her mother again.
I last saw my grandma in June 2017. And since then I have been fearing this day. You see, when you live 3000 km away from home, you blame yourself for a lot of things, but mostly for not being able to visit the people you care about. You hope that they won't judge and that they will understand that you don't visit because life sets up barriers, not by lack of will. I think she finally understood this last time I saw her or at least I hope so... she seemed to accept the fact that her family was spread all across Europe and she contented herself with seeing glimpses of us.
She had been mother to 9 living children, grandmother to 17 grand kids and great grandmother to 7 great grand kids. She had dedicated her life to raising all of us. And that she did. She raised me since I was nine months old until I was six. She was the one that thought me the difference between good and bad, how to be respectful and how to be nice to people. She showed me that no matter how hard life gets, you need to keep pushing and carry on doing good. She was a strong believer in the saying 'good things happen to good people' and she always told me to be good and not expect anything back, as things will eventually work out in my favour.
I can proudly say that she shaped me into who I am today, as she built the foundation of my personality and brought in me the basic elements of being a good human being.
I hadn't experienced death as an adult. And I didn't want to. I was terrified of seeing her like that. The days before her funeral have been a blur, as I was still in shock and couldn't believe that I was heading to see her not be.
The moment I approached her house and the place where I grew up... I froze. Despite the -15 degrees outside, the cold was on the inside. Flashes of memories, her walking around, me playing as a child... all came at once and I froze. I couldn't go in the house to see her, I just couldn't move my body in that direction. I was afraid. I turned into a scared little girl. The girl I have been, the girl that needed her grandma's warm hug. A hug that would never happen. I felt like in a dream, floating around with no real purpose, because being there didn't seem to make sense. Two days before I was in Birmingham, my now-home, oblivious of what will happen. How could I look at her? When I knew how much she wanted to hold my kids one day, to have them run around in her big gardens, to cook for them and watch them grow up.
I stepped inside and had to step back. I felt a knot in my throat, like I couldn't breathe... that familiar feeling of a panic attack. I ran. I had to be strong, I had to stop myself. She is better now, she is finally at peace, I was telling myself, she is not longer hurting and struggling, she no longer feels pain nor suffering. I needed to see her to believe it, as I was still in this state of denial. But how to get close when my legs felt buried in the ground? Step by step. Moment by moment, as done previously, I had to just go with the motions. And I did. One step at a time, I was moving closer to her. The front door, the hallway, pause. Breathe. Take another deep breath and take another step. Seconds felt like ages and I felt so scared. Pushing forward, this must have been the hardest thing. When I spotted her, I screamed inside. This can't be real, I kept telling myself, that person lying there is not my grandma, she is not that tiny, why is she not moving, why is this happening. And then all the voices stopped. As I was studying her face, I couldn't think of anything else. I couldn't cry, nor move, nor speak, nor think. My brain now needed all its energy to take in that one moment alone. The moment when I was confronted with the image of my dead grandma. I don't know for how long I stood there, but it felt like my entire childhood. I relived all those years, went through all the good and the bad that happened in that house. I thanked her for everything and I asked for forgiveness, for not being able to be with her and see her more often. For not holding her hand when she needed it most and for living in a world where so many diseases exist. And then I walked away.
I know I'll probably not see those places again, as she was the only one bringing us there. Without her, it doesn't feel right. As beautiful as it is, she made it warm, she made it a home and she made it extraordinary.
Now, all I am left with are the memories and the pictures.
