Day 14: Bitterness

Almost a month has gone by since my grandma Tachi passed away.  I remember learning the word “widow” at six years old in Brazil, when my mom told us our grandfather had passed away. I was sad but didn’t fully understand the concept of death. Throughout the years we moved to several countries, and every time Tachi would come stay with us. You always tend to grow closer towards one side of the family. Since Tachi was a widow, she loved the attention. She was far from perfect, often childish, and immature regarding small matters. I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised with an iron will amongst three brothers. From avoiding guests, ignoring phone calls, and causing drama at least once a week -- Tachi wasn’t the easiest person to live it. Yet we loved her, and she loved us. Through good, bad, and everything in between we loved. The last few days when she was battling cancer in a hospital bed, I sympathized alongside her. Pain from her past, regrets of occurrences of which I only know half the story of. Not that it mattered to me. Her love for us was more real than anything in this world, because it is not from this world. Love overcomes selfishness, overcomes bitterness. Bitterness that caused her so much pain, even through her morphine injection. Love heals all wounds, love covers all wrongs. In the end she did not die in pain, she did not die bitter. She swallowed the bitterness, and finished it like a strong cup of coffee. The night she let go of my hand, I knew she had forgiven all those who hurt her, all those whom she had hurt. And although I miss her dearly, at least she finished her bitter cup of coffee.
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