My Grandma...

So i have to make it a habit to pop in here every so often and pour my heart out. How else do i expect to get this blog to survive if i don't make use of it? It's been almost a week since my last blog (tsk tsk to myself)... that won't do at all if my plan is to use this blog for some self-reflection. I need to be able to keep up with my daily thoughts and aha moments, and without telling them all in here, how else can i make that possible?

So i was thinking, (not today, but about a few days ago), about my grandmother...my father's mother, who had passed away when i was barely 9. Of course at 9 you dont really know much, and the little i knew has already been forgotten, especially given my current 'old age' status. So, lately I've found myself thinking about her, my thoughts randomly straying towards her, what she looked like the last time i saw her; i find myself trying to imagine her looking younger, more agile. You see, in my mind's eye i see her as a very old woman, for that was how i remembered her. She'd always been quite old and very frail as far as i can remember, and i had always thought then that all grandmas have always been old. To be honest, it wasn't until very recently that i started to actually acknowledge that my grandmothers had once been young and pretty and agile (i still have one living grandma whom i adore very much. Unfortunately i never got to know either of my grandfathers). So as thoughts of my grandma swimmed across my mind, i immediately started typing everything that came to mind at that moment (good thing i was in front of a computer, bored as hell and staring at the spot above the crown of my monitor).

So...here's what i typed, no edits, no re-wordings, just straight from my..uh...soul..? :

sometimes i think about my grandmother, the one i never really knew
i have vague memories of her, how she looked, smelled
how fragile she was, how she used to lift me on her lap, and i wouldnt want to lean too much too hard on her, incase i was too heavy for her
i remember how people used to call me by her name, because i looked like her, they say
she was light-skinned, that much i remember
she was also blind
i'm not sure if she ever saw me, her little grandchild, saw what i looked like
i remember how she would hold me, feel my hands, touch my face, the face of her little grandchild
i struggle now to remember what she used to call me; i know she had a special name for me
i was 9 when she passed, and i remember feeling sad, but only because my dad was sad and crying so hard
i never really understood her death, nor did it dawn on me to mourn her, all i knew was that my grandma was dead, and her death has made everyone sad
that day was the first i ever saw my dad weep
my strong able dad, able to withstand any and everything
my strong and able dad had been reduced to tears, bawling like a child. His mother was dead
Da Mgbokwo, my grandma
i wish i knew you, knew you like normal kids know their grandmas
i wish there had been time for me to appreciate you more
appreciate the life you gave my father
i wish i knew the kind of mother you were, one that was worshipped by her son, one whose son would climb mountains, swim oceans, go through hell and back, just to make his mother happy, see her comfortable
i wish there had been time  for you to see your great grandkids, time to tell you about Jesus and His love..and Grace...
i wish
yeah, i wish

So this was what i thought about that day. 

'Til next time...