Long Gone
Black there, black everywhere. Black. She woke up at night not knowing where she was or who she was. One day she didn’t even remember her home or her family. Worried, they panicked while others were confused or in shock. Processing what was happening took longer than expected. After a while her memory returned and the worries went away. She was a bitter old woman that didn’t like anyone but at this stage she was needy like a child. Although she claimed she was fine, I had my suspicions but I didn’t make a big deal out of it because she has always been there. My reasoning? She has been here this far therefore she’s not going anywhere. I was later proven wrong.
My grandmother died at an immigration center while I was in school. She was getting her papers to be able to go to her homeland, Dominican Republic. She died happy. She died happy but I didn’t know yet. I went to the hospital and my first reaction to the news of my grandmothers death was a smirk followed by “you’re kidding right?” My cousin looked at me in a way confirming what she had said. People in the streets looked so scared while they stared at me. The strange thing is I never liked this woman when she was alive because all she would say is how useless we all are but here I stood crying my eyes out for the bitter old women that lived in my house. Then came the day I went to the funeral of a person I actually grew up with.
Till’ this day this funeral is still seen as a lie. People stood in front of her coffin and spoke about how loving, nice, and missed she would be. They were right about one thing. This woman hated all day, all she did was hate and now she’s loving? I have no idea what it is about people dying that as soon as they pass they were all angles. This woman was never visited by anyone but as soon people heard she died they decided to come visit her in her casket. Even the people that described her as annoying in life said she was the nicest person at her funeral. All I could see when I looked around that service were crocodile tears. All I could think of was the cliché that when someone dies they were the kindest person/people ever, no exceptions and that is exactly what happened in the funeral of the old lady that complained about everything.
I still knew who she was, a cranky old lady but apparently everyone else forgot that miner fact. I cried for this woman not because everyone else was but because I grew up with that cranky old lady that was concerned when my sister and me were sick and played dodging Barbie with us. Even though she wad mad at her life all the time and often said we weren’t smart she did love us. Then I realized this women was special. This women taught me life is hard and her death taught me outliving your loved ones is hardest of all but it doesn’t mean life isn’t worth working hard for. As that life lesson sunk in I left that funeral home, all I could see was black.
