To Maria

I remember last summer Grandma Maria invited me over to dinner. It seemed very important to her that I was there with my entire family. I am a busy lady, and I wasn't totally excited about going, but I committed to go. The day arrived and I had a voice inside tell me to dress up, and to bring flowers. I am allergic to flowers, I never give them as a gift, but I knew that this event was very important to Maria, and so I dressed up, did my hair and makeup after a long day, and stopped by the florist on my way over.

Her humble and clean apartment was filled with friends. She had made a dinner that was like that of Thanksgiving. Food galore. We sat, talked and feasted together as Grandma Maria's circle of friends. She beamed the entire time as she served us. It was the last supper.

Around a year ago this month Grandma Maria left us. Her dear friend and our RS president had been staying very close to her because her health was declining from the return of her cancer. She was checking up on her every day. One night she called me a bit frantic because she hadn't heard from Maria. My husband was sure she had gone to see friends in NJ, so she let it go. The next night we got the same phone call, only this time our RS Prez had insisted to be let into Maria's apt, by the landlord, and she discovered Maria, laying on her couch, stricken by her disease.

My husband rushed over and made the arrangements for her funeral and stayed with her. All I could do was make phone calls. I called everyone I could think of to tell them that we had lost our beloved Grandma Maria. I called her next of kin, because that is what we were. She had no children, no grandchildren, we were them. I couldn't cry that night. In fact, I turned on the tv very loudly, and did not watch it. I didn't even get to go to the funeral because I had made previous travel arrangements that could not be changed.

But this is what I remember: I remember her smile, with the one tooth that had the gold backing on it. I remember her small frame. I remember how she always dressed, and often had a scarf. I remember her warm voice and latina accent. I remember her firm hugs and kisses. I remember her love of everyone around her. I remember her loving my children. I remember my children loving her. I remember her open heart. I remember her cane and her glasses. I remember the picture of herself on her coffee table, standing so tall and beautiful. But most of all I remember how soft her hands were, and the warmth and the grasp and the touch and the feel of them.

To Grandma Maria...we love you.