Grandma.

Every time I tell my grandma “Goodbye, I’m going to bed” or “I’ll be back in 30 minutes, I’m going for a walk,” she hugs me tight and tells me that she loves me. She’ll be 81 this December and I feel as if she is unable to let go of my presence without doing or saying something that sounds very much like a last goodbye.

Today, after dinner, I stood up and walked away from the table. Despite her knee problem, she rapidly pushed her chair backwards, looked at me in the eye, and pinched my arm really hard; almost as if it were an impulse of desperation.

It’s tough to think that she feels as if any moment could be the last. I don’t think about telling my parents that I love them and hugging them tight every night before I go to sleep, because I know that there will be a tomorrow. But she doesn’t know that. And it kills me to think that tomorrow I’ll  wake up and she’ll be gone. Forever.

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