April 28, 2003.
Today is the 14th anniversary of the death of my beloved grandmother. I went to the cemetery and took her some flowers. I wasn’t able to stay long, because I got there right before closing time.
Going to the cemetery is something we do in my family. I can remember going every Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, birthdays, All Soul’s Day (Día de los Muertos). Grama and I would take flowers to my great-grandparents on those days. Now she’s buried with her mother, and is the main reason I go.
My loss is profound, and my heart still grieves, though not as much as before. She lived a long and full life, had a (relatively) easy death. I had her for almost 40 years. Such a gift.
We make our way through life, our grief hidden, but always there. The first anniversary, along with all the other “firsts,” is much more difficult. Here I am in the 14th year since her death. Soon it will be 20 years, 30 years, etc. As long as I’m able, I’ll make my little pilgrimages to the cemetery.
Because I love my grandmother.