It’s been 11 years since my beloved grandmother, Lupe González, passed away on an early Monday morning.
She was my rock, my constant, she was the one who loved me unconditionally, something I never doubted. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her, if only for a fleeting moment.
My proudest moment was taking care of her at her death, being her “death midwife.” She was waked at home, the rosary was at home, she was taken to the church Wednesday morning for her funeral Mass, all of which I planned. This was my last loving act for a grandmother who meant everything to me. Everything.
I miss her, but I know I was blessed to have her for almost 40 years. I still love her, and I know she still loves me. Death does not stop love. Nothing does. She is as near to me as my own breath and beating heart.
I went to spend some time with her today at the cemetery, as I often do. It is a place to ground myself, to be still, to be.