Rest easy, grandmother

In loving memory of

My grandmother passed away on May 21, around 3am. She was 95 years old.

She was a devout Catholic, and she was the kindest person I have ever known. Her principle was to give that kindness freely, to everyone.

Her backstory was difficult. Her parents died when she was young, and she had to work before she was a teenager, before anyone gave her the chance to learn. She had no formal education, and her resilience really showed how far the human mind can endure when you look beyond your situation and improve. She gave everything she had.

In her final years she developed dementia, and then the early stages of Alzheimer’s. That, to me, is its own kind of grief, the kind you carry long before the person is gone. And yet there was something gentle in seeing this side of her. My grandmother’s personality became childlike, and there is a peace in that. I believe a child’s mind is the purest form of innocence there is.

My grandfather died of cancer twelve years ago, and she never recovered from losing him. She carried that grief the way she carried everything, quietly, turning to her prayer beads to hold what she could not say out loud. Twelve years she waited to see him again. Wherever she is now, I hope she has. I think she waited a long time for this. I hope she found it.

She died in her sleep, which is a fitting last chapter. She lived as kindly as a woman of her era knew how, and she left the same way she lived. Gently.

Rest in peace, grandma.

With love,
Philip Abao