I am very lucky to have grown up spending time with all four of my grandparents. They raised me in a family that surrounds their children in both a cultural and religious environment.
I like to think of myself as a lucky girl. I was fortunate enough to meet two of my great-grandmothers. Even though I only knew one of them for about five years, it was enough time for her to teach me the value of having such supportive sisters. It was heartwarming to see how my grandma and her sisters always supported each other, no matter the circumstances. My other great-grandmother was a gentle, peaceful person who cared deeply for her children—children who learned to help each other and their community. I knew her for twelve years, and now, every time I see very dark sunglasses or when my cousins and I cross our legs, I can’t help but remember her.Â
A story I will never forget is when I was in kindergarten a classmate lost a grandparent. That classmate made sure to tell us to cherish our grandparents, as the time we spend with them always seems to be cut short. Ever since then, I try so hard to spend time with own grandparents in the ways I know best. I like to cook for them just as they have always cooked for me and we share stories that often end in lighthearted jokes. From all of my grandparents, I never considered my grandmother, whom I have lived with for most of my life, to be your typical grandma. My “Mamalupe” was my best friend. I would spend most of my time with her, and would even beg my dad to let me stay with her whether it be at home or running casual errands. We loved to go to the fair, the mall, parties, and even just grocery shopping. We enjoyed doing anything together.
My Mamalupe cared for her whole family, but to me she was my feeling of home. Growing up I would get sick for weeks or develop hives in the middle of the night. My grandma would stay up sleepless, making remedies that always worked for me. Afterward, she would constantly check on me to make sure I was okay. In return, as I always knew when she was sick, I would try to comfort her and make her feel better. No matter how old I was, I’d be by her side, just as she was by mine.
From middle school to college, she would wake up whenever she heard me getting ready. I would go over my schedule with her, and she’d listen with genuine interest. She always loved it when I wore blush and red lipstick, and in the process of getting ready she’d constantly remind me how pretty I was, making me feel special every time. We were always each other’s company. When we didn’t live together, I would spend the summers with her so she wouldn’t feel lonely while my grandfather worked the night shifts. My Mamalupe always made sure to cook me my favorite breakfast, making those mornings especially memorable. My Mamalupe would always say how I was her person: she would remind me that I was hers, and she was mine—that she raised me. Instead of congratulating me, she’d talk about how I became the person I am because of her guidance. She was proud of herself for raising me to be the person I am today.
Goodbye is a strong word. You never really know if you will see someone again—anything can happen at any time. I have always feared not seeing my loved ones again. On our last trip together, I did not say goodbye to my grandparents. All three of them said goodbye, but they said, “God willing we see each other again.” My Mamalupe and I told each other that we would see each other at home, but she didn’t say goodbye. That was the last time I saw her, and she never made it back home.Â
Now, I pause my show or music when I get ready, almost waiting for her. When I come home from school, work, or being out, I expect her to be waiting for me to ask if I’m okay and how my day went. My home, both in Mexico and here in the U.S. no longer feel like home. I don’t have her to make her breakfast, or for her to teach me to cook. I don’t have my best friend anymore. Â
A goodbye without a goodbye, is not a simple promise or assurance to see you again. A goodbye without a goodbye is a love story full of unconditional love. Romance is something beautiful in life. I live with the love story of a friendship, a mother-daughter bond, one that only comes once in a lifetime. I hope you have your own Mamalupe in your life, and that you get the chance to to spend time with your loved one. To actually go on the trips to learn from their cooking, to garden, or spend time doing things that identifies your identity of what makes you happy is one of the most beautiful relationships you can have.