Today was a bit of an emotional day for me... it started off in a precarious way.
Last Thursday evening my poor Grandma suffered from heart failure, this hasn't been the first time... for the last year she has been in the hospital at least 4 times. My grandmother never the epitome of health, a smoker since the age of 13 a life not rich by all means but 84 years long thus far.
My Yiayia who was sold at the ripe age of 5 because her parents could not have fed her their poor was beyond poor. A father to her who was 70 at the age of her birth, a mother who obviously wasn't concerned about showing her love more than getting her food on the plate which she might eat. Never attended a day of school but she read and read and self taught herself to read the bible.
My Yiayia who had to draw the linens for the German soldiers who lived in the Estate my child slaved grandmother worked in, had to watch her brother shot in the head in front of other Spartans for disgruntling one of those soldiers who she had to set his dinner plate.
This poor Grandma whose name I carried for years in embarrassment, who never knew how to show her affection to her children, who tried to reach her grandchildren through song... we each have our very own; a tumultuous relationship that we had for years.
But in her weakest of moments, her most vulnerable... she sang to me and finally made me feel loved and understood.
I may be sad because I couldn't appreciate her all the times, I am sad that it took this long to truly feel loved and sad that perhaps one day she actually won't be around to share this love we actually have for each other deep in our cores.
My Yiayia's is mine... like yours is to you, but I can't imagine my life without my little 4 foot rollie-pollie smoking yiayia. I wish she knew how much she is finally understood!!!