The absence of my posts for the past handful of months are due in part to being occupied while looking for work, but mostly due to my grandma's fall in November, leaving me and my family with little time outside of a hospital or nursing home. I would like to now recommence my blog posts, starting with one dedicated to the incredible woman I was fortunate enough to call Grandma: Violet Vila.
My grandma lived with gusto and everyone she knew was touched by her avid enthusiasm for life. She spoke, wrote, ate, drank, danced, and laughed with a vivacity that one does not see often in others. She was witty, spunky, outspoken, kindhearted, and strong. She stood by her beliefs with a stubborn tenacity, but knew when to admit she was wrong. Because of my grandma, I have an insatiable yearning to learn, I read everything, I write wholeheartedly, and I argue adamantly.
There are days when a memory of my grandma is so vivid it stops me in my tracks, like when she taught me how to whistle, and when I read to her while she did the laundry. And there are other days when I panic when I can't remember every single moment we spent together; every recollection like grains of sand falling through my open fingers. My mom and I were recently going through my grandma's belongings, and I came across a notebook that was filled with scraps of paper and article clippings. There was a sheet with several quotations written in her exquisite handwriting, one of which read: "Love never dies as long as someone remembers." It is with this thought in mind that I know will get me through this difficult time. My grandma lives on in me, in my memory of her, and in the stories I will pass on to my children, and theirs.
Grandma, here's to you. Miss you like hell, but I know you're not far. Love always and always,
Margarita Violeta
