Let’s turn the book to Chapter X: Grandma.

I’ve always wanted to type something up about her and I’m sure the crowd in my head would like to hear.

She was a beautiful woman (is). Her love for Frank Sinatra was huge. She would dance to his songs in the morning, only if she wasn’t reading the newspaper. Towel hanging on her shoulder, just in case she starts sweating. It’s funny because she knew all about current events, but her taste in music stayed in the Sinatra era. Grandma was quite the chubby lady. She ate whatever she want because she believed we have time to be skinny when we’re dead. Crazy. In her younger days, she smoked at least a pack of cigarettes a day. Not until she reached her late 60s did the effects attack. Cigarettes, newspapers, coffee, and Sinatra just had to be her favorites. I don’t mind the last three just because those made her happy. But cigarettes did, too. So I had nothing to say to her, staying with her went something went wrong was the only appropriate thing to do. My grandma will always be the strongest woman I know. She was independent and knew her way through life. I’ve seen her cry once and it was probably one of the most appreciated moments of my life. I know this is scattered, but I had to write about the woman that raised me. Once old age and weakness took over, she explained to me the little things in life. It was confusing because she explained her ideas in metaphors. I don’t know who does that but it’s one of the reasons I get up every day, listening to her voice in my head. Gray hair turning to white, wrinkles adding up, and the hue of her eyes changing. Growing old is a beautiful thing but letting go is hard. As cliche as it sounds, she said I must let go for now because we’ll meet later on.

She had millions of stories to tell and plenty of songs to sing. She’s one person that I truly miss.