My grandmother died in October of 2021.
She was my Mamita. The story goes that when I was born she wanted to be called Mama Sita (she felt she was too young to be a grandma). But I couldn’t say it and it came out Ma-mita. And with that, a legend was born.
My whole life she has been my whole person. When I was a baby and my mom was working to provide for me, Mamita watched me. When I was growing up I spent a week or two with her every summer. I am not exaggerating when I say that was the best part of the entire year. That and Christmas. I remember one year coming up the steps from the front porch (it must have been a split level house) and seeing stacks of presents. At least seven or eight stacks! Some of them were taller than me! It was like a Christamas wonderland in the movies but actually in my own life!
I remember driving to Mamita’s house and looking for “the green gate bridge.” We’d visited San Francisco and saw the golden gate bridge on a summer road trip vacation. It made a huge impression. Somewhere in the LA area, on the way to Redondo Beach was a green bridge that reminded me of the golden gate. In my mind I dubbed it the “green gate bridge” and would watch and watch for that landmark. From that point on the excitement of visiting Mamita became almost unbearable. I remember almost jumping out of my skin because I was so excited to visit her!
As a teenager she was my refuge. I was hospitalized for a month or two and I got to visit her during that time. She made me crocheted slippers that I had in the hospital with me. I remember that she cried and told me to get better. After that I spent the whole summer with her and worked on my independent study homework. I healed a lot that summer.
When my Poppa died Mamita was utterly devastated. I went to stay with her between Thanksgiving and Christmas. She didn’t want to do Christamas that year, understandably. We went to Walmart to buy just one present for each of my cousins. One led to two, two led to three or four and next thing you know it was a full blown Mamita Christmas! We found my great grandmother Mommy Eta a statue of a cat that was so realistic people thought we’d actually brought our own cat shopping with us!
As an adult she taught me how to cook, how to let things roll off my back and the importance of family. Always the importance of family. My children got to spend so much time with her too. But not enough. Not nearly enough.
It’s been two and a half years and I miss her every single day. I wish she was still here to teach me all of the things I still need to know. If I can be even half of the grandmother that she was I’ll feel like I’ve done something right.
“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.”
E.A. Bucchianeri
My youngest son graduated from high school recently. She wasn’t there. It was so hard. I know she’s so proud of him, but I wanted her to be there. To see it. To celebrate with me. For her to tell me I did a good job and she’s proud of me.
Something about graduation has unlocked something inside of me. I feel like my purpose for the past 25 years has been fulfilled. I did it. I got these kids through high school and adolescence and into young adulthood. I’m obviously still a mom but there’s something about that milestone that feels profound. My mom was there. She was proud and excited and super happy. I saw a shadow of how Mamita would have felt had she been at that graduation.
Loss is forever. I will go throughout my entire life missing her and hoping that she’s proud of me. She is so much a part of who I am that I can’t even begin to fathom forgetting or not wanting her love and approval. It’s been a long time. I’ll remember her always. I think I’m finally ready to start getting back to all of the things that have brought me joy…including writing. She’d want that for me. Someday I hope to journey back to her. Do you think that on the way to Heaven there will be a green gate…