10/19/2026
Last year I lost my grandma. She was like a second mom to me. She gave me unconditional love through my whole life. When she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's 10 years ago, I was the one who brought her to the doctor, when I used to live in Brazil. I was always doing my best to be sure she was taken care of. When I was back there, I visited her as much as I could. It was hard to see her disappear while her body was here. Two years before she passed away, she forgot who I was. But for many years she didn't know my favorite recipes, or the stories I tried to remind her of, even though her life was the same.
When she started to get worse, and the doctor gave her a few days, I wanted to rush to Brazil and stay by her side, but I was advised not to go. Because my father could make a scene in the hospital, and later at the cemetery. My father can't stand my presence. He loves to tell everyone how much he hates me. I know that deep down his hate is not towards me. It's towards the woman who left him 40 years ago, when I was only a little child. But that's another story.
I cried alone. I grieved alone. I couldn't say goodbye. He stayed the last days by her side. But I know that the 42 years I lived by her side, and even being far I made myself present, this is what is important. Inside me, and through my daughter, she's still alive.