To my Special Lady
Let me begin with saying that this entry will be unlike any others. Ever. As I mourn/grieve/deny/accept the loss of my dear Yiayia, I’m searching for ways to release my thoughts, and I keep coming back to writing. It’s been a while since I’ve written because life has been consumed with spending precious last moments with her and our family, through to the aftermath of it all. But I want to give this a try. So here goes nothing.
Yiayia,
I’m heartbroken. I cannot believe the time has come that I can’t call you to hear you shuffling around the kitchen, asking if I’m still working from home (everyday during the pandemic), can’t show up to have cheese from Jerry’s and really old beers that have been sitting in your fridge for years, can’t buy matching pink nylon nightgowns that you pretend to like and then throw it out because yours are better and softer, can’t surprise you with funny Christmas presents that make you laugh until your stomach hurts (like those granny panties!!), can’t ask you to make me a turkey sandwich with your garden fresh tomatoes and homemade dressing on a poppy seed roll on the beach because “you make it better” with your flimsy plastic knife, can’t feel your hands against my face as you ever-so-not-gently pat my cheek, can’t pretend to enjoy drinking black coffee with a little skim milk at 5pm, can’t FaceTime you whenever I check each family member’s location to see who is with you and can call me to see your smile… the list goes on and on.
But what I can do, with the heaviest heart, is think about the immense blessing you have been to me, to Lea, to J.T., to Niko, to Kriselle, to our parents and every person that has crossed your path. I can continue to admire your heart exploding at the seams with love, compassion and empathy for everyone under the sun. I can enjoy remembering the laughs we shared over the silliest things -- the most precious moments that are the way I want to remember you forever. I will think about your Yiayia-isms daily, like how for some reason, it was so difficult for you to say goodbye on the phone instead of just hanging up abruptly when you felt the conversation was over, or if the Greek soap opera was getting too good for you to miss anymore action. Or how no matter how hot, your coffee was never hot enough if you didn’t brew it yourself. I will always remember the spunky, strong, funny, loving, outgoing but still so shy woman (with the constant subtle reminders that you were born on a mountain like thinking playing with rocks was something people did in 2021) that you were to me every moment that we had together and apart.
Yiayia, you are and were one of the most amazing people I’ll ever come to know and love in my life. I hate that my only option now is to accept that you’re gone. You were my best friend. It sounds ridiculous because you were “old” (won’t disclose your age. Know I’ll get the look of disgust if I do) but you were my best, best friend and you always will be. There is a special spot in my heart for you, clean and pristine, just like you would have wanted it. I think it smells like oregano, too. They say hang onto the good memories, and that will keep you going, but the truth is that nothing will ever compare to what we had on this earth together. I will keep my head up, stay strong, and envision you and Pappou dancing and smiling -- hopefully near a beach -- when times get tough. I will be forever grateful for the time we cherished with you, and for our irreplaceable bond that will stay with me ‘til the end.
I love you always,
Renee
