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Rated: E · Short Story · Family · #1060900
A letter to the grandmother I never knew
Dear Grandma,

As a child, I didn't know what it feels like to have 4 people in your life and address them as "grandparents".

Whenever I hear friends talking about spending the holidays with their beloved grandparents or simply being with them, I yearned to be in their place.

Parents will love and dote on you, but it is not the same as having the love of a grandfather or a grandmother. Grandparents are the people you can run to after a quarrel with your parents. Grandpa and Grandma will take you in, make a cup of hot chocolate for you and give you a big hug and they won't nag your ears off.

Or at least, that's what I imagine it to be, because I have encountered people who either loved or hated their grandparents.

I remember having a friend whom I thought was loving and caring. But she hated, and I say hated, her grandmother because the old lady suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease and caring for her is difficult.

On the other hand, I have a friend who was the rebellious kind, the one who has a strained relationship with her parents. But the girl adores her grandmother. I was shocked and I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Miss I-don't-give-a-damn bringing her grandmother on a shopping trip.

I have always wondered how life would be with you around. Would you be willing to be my pillar of strength when no one in this world would help me? Would you believe in me when no one else does?

On the long drives to the beach, I would turn to my father and ask him about you. He would hesitate because his memories of you were fast fading. He didn't remember much because most of his life, he was cared by his own grandmother while you and Granddad worked. It was only in his adulthood that he tried to bridge the gap and bring you closer to his family.

But I would have to say that it's too late by then. Yes, my brother and sister were most fortunate to have your company. You were able to shelter them with your grandmotherly love, sing them lullabies and watch them blossom.

But again, I came eight months late. Or did you go eight months too early? Why did you have to go? Why did you have to go visit your hometown with my dad while my mum was pregnant with me? Couldn't you have waited until I was born at least? Why did you have to stop and sit at the train station's bench? Why did you give in and closed your eyes? Didn't you think about me?

And why didn't you open your eyes when my dad - your son, told you to wake up?

Whatever it is, please pray for my success. Please keep an eye on me and please lead me the right way.

Although we weren't granted the chance to know each other, I would always love you.

And I hope you do too.

© Copyright 2006 Hana L.A. Saw (hanashu at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1060900