Moving on, hard but not impossible.

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    Jan 26, 2013
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Not a day goes by when I don’t think of her. It has been two years since, she passed away.As people grow old, we underestimate them, think of them as fragile and feeble, but that’s the funny part, they are or were the strongest people you could have ever known. They are the ones who have lived up to this day, telling stories of how jagged their childhood or teenage life was. I am the youngest and the only daughter after four sons in my family. All my life I have experienced rough paths and I have fought them alone, but there was only one person I could not hide my tears from; my grandmother.

She was that one person who knew me well enough to tell if I was crying upstairs in my room. Our names were the same and our birthdays were just a day apart. Till the age of 15 I had always celebrated my birthday with her. Two cakes were always ordered on the 18th of July, one chocolate and the other pineapple cream cake. She was that one person who never made me come home to an empty room after school. She would wake up one hour before I did, wait for me, sit next to me while I had my breakfast and wait outside the veranda till I came back home after 8 hours of school. That one person, who asked me how my school was? or if I was alright. That one person, who would sleep next to me, and hold a part of my shirt to make sure nobody, kidnapped me in the middle of the night. Not even my mother cared enough, not the way she did. I can never forget the day she passed away at 4am in the morning and it took my family an hour to accept that her heart had stopped and her soul had passed on. I still remember seeing my mother’s pale face when she couldn’t give me the news in the morning. I still remember my father’s redden eyes, when he said, “she died peacefully”. My knees trembled and I ran to her emptied room. I put my head on her bed and screamed, “No! No! No!” I swear, upon God, I heard her say “yes”.

After 4 days of her death was my brother’s wedding. I woke up that morning and crossed her room, I could still smell the rose water she’d put on her face so she won’t get “too many wrinkles”. I realized that day, how alone I was without her. She meant the world to me.

She was the one who sang “my sunshine” as I slept, and in the last days I was the one to sing her that song with the guitar.


Till this day, I remind myself that she has left and I get shivers, I contradict it. I talk to her, I imagine her with me when I feel lonely. I broke, when she left. I had lost myself, my soul had parted. It has been two years and I have yet to move on, but thinking about her is what induces me, when I remember her telling me, “you’re going to be a billionaire” it pumps me up, and I jump out of the chair, running to my desk just to write or study but do something that could make my future the way she expected it.

No, I cannot forget her, never will I even try to, it’s bad, I realize that, but when I do try, I feel like I’m divulging her, maybe I’m not. All I know is that, I’m going to endeavor, fall, get up and endeavor again for the rest of my life, to get to that place where she wanted me at, and never to fall apart losing everything I strived for. She taught me to be strong, to guide my soul and sanction my will. I will now, do what she had predicted. I have to, and this, is what helps me move on. This is what helps me make my day and my future. She has made me, and now I will live up to it, I will make her proud, and I will succeed.

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