Sunday, May 9, 2021
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Whenever I was having a tough time at school, work, or anything, there was one person that always helped me feel better no matter the circumstance, Grandma. She always made me smile because she was always smiling. We would laugh, eat steaks and fries, and watch movies together. We would make fun of the stupidity of every commercial that passed. During the climax of certain films, she would sometimes say stuff like “this is the part where so and so will die,” or “the part where the hero would arrive at the last second to save the day.” Some hate spoilers, but with her, I genuinely enjoyed them because I found her commentary always much more entertaining than the actual movie. I had such a blast with her that I always figured that I would have to be her favorite grandchild. I mean, could she really be this great and fun to be around with every other kid?
Yes, as there was one problem with my theory, ten actually because Jaclyn, Anthony, Andrew, Nicole, Joseph, Nicholas, Amanda, James, Paul, & Steevie would beg to differ, but that was just Grandma. She was such a joy to be around that she made everyone feel like they were her favorite. And now that’s she’s gone, not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could talk to her one last time if I could somehow go back in time and do something as seemingly simple as to nod at her from a distance like a stranger on a curbside just to see her smile.
I want everyone to pause for a second and picture a jar of mustard on a kitchen table. Grandma hated mustard. And she was not particularly fond of when I suggested we mix the mustard with some chocolate ice cream to improve the taste, either. She would stick out her tongue in disgust.
Now I want everyone to imagine a batch of laundry. Whenever Grandma came over, she would rush to my room to clean it and organize everything until not even one loose sock remained. You would have to lock yourself in your room to stop her, but most times, even that wasn’t enough. She folded all my clothes, organized my desk, and even stacked my oversized collection of trading cards. The point was, she always wanted to help. One time I tried to impress her by organizing my shirts, cleaning out my draws, and pre-folding all my clothes just before she arrived. As I was about to open my dresser to show her, she already ripped them all out as she refolded what she deemed a mess. And in the end, she was right as she made the clothes look much better.
Finally, can everyone picture a flickering bulb, darkness, the night? Grandma hated the dark; she hated scary movies or anything associated with horror. She wouldn’t even go upstairs or downstairs in her own house at night, even with all the lights on. I used to tease her like a little menace by opening the basement door as I turned to her and asked who was the person sitting down there whispering in the pitch-black. Because of her fear of the night, Grandma would often refer to herself as a chicken or a baby. But in my eyes, she was anything but. Grandma never complained, no matter the circumstance about anything, despite the hardships of her life she had to endure through or the pain of not being able to breathe in the end. Grandma was tough in a way that I can only hope to be.
The point of all these somewhat random stories was not to bore you. But to prove that Grandma will never truly be gone as long as she exists in our memories forever. In objects as seemingly meaningless as a jar of mustard, a few folded clothes, or a little darkness. These everyday things, along with many others, will always remind me of her. In that sense, I wouldn’t even need something as impossible as a time machine to see her because she was, is, and always will be forever immortalized in my memories.
If there was one phrase that sums up Grandma’s attitude toward negativity, it was that spoken ever so eloquently by my cousin Andrew as a child: “I care about nothing.” Grandma used to laugh reciting the phrase, which reminded me of her because she never let anything in life bother her, no matter how cruel or heartbreaking. Her mental toughness was unparalleled. And in the end, perhaps the most important thing she ever gave to me was not all the gifts or the random cash but her moral compass, and because of her, I will always think whenever facing a difficult circumstance: what would Grandma do?
(718) 761-5544 | 
matthewfh@matthewfuneralhome.com | 
2508 Victory Boulevard, Staten Island, NY 10314
(718) 761-5544
matthewfh@matthewfuneralhome.com