Here I am, at the last minute of the blog of the month...
I've been quiet for two weeks, but here I am again getting back to my Hive activities.
The question of the Blog of the Month touches my heart, I read it a few days ago, and I kept thinking about it...
I have to confess that when I stop to think about my past days I very rarely regret what I experienced, I have been able to see in them reasons for hope and great learning. Of course, sometimes I questioned God wanting to know why, and over time I discovered some answers.
At this point in my life I no longer ask, I know that adversities are part of life, that they make us grow, that they put us to the test. Now what I try to do is be more grateful, I try to live grateful, discover in everyday life the blessings that God has given me, I do not take anything for granted, and I consider that nothing is a coincidence.
But if I could, I would move to the week of November 2 to November 8, 2020.
Image by Gerd Altmann published in Pixabay
My grandmother, my Beloved Maita, died on November 10 of that year, she was 99 years old, she died of old age.
In the last month, she no longer had the strength to even get out of bed, and for the last week she could not eat solid food. The weekend prior to her departure, she lost her voice.
That last week, to which I would like to move, if I had known I would never hear her voice again, I would have recorded it. Her sweet voice. How I would like to hear it right now!
I would have talked to her more, listened to her stories again, seen how her eyes lit up when she got excited. I liked it when she'd pause, and then she'd say, And then... She'd do it in a particular way, like she was savoring something.
I used to listen to her carefully, I knew that someday she would no longer be there, but I regret that it never occurred to me to record her.
Her presence inspired me a lot of tenderness, and his calmness inspired me peace.
She always had a nice phrase to say. And when she met someone, she always told them: my name is Ramona, but everyone calls me Maita. It was as if she welcomed him into her life. And she did it with a splendid smile.
There was no goodbye without her saying: God bless you!
My Beloved Maita in the last few years had episodes of weakness, and then she would recover, I wanted her to recover from this as well.
That Sunday, November 8, I said goodbye to her, I remember her loving look, but she could no longer say anything to me. I hugged her tenderly...
The other day, I was thinking how wonderful it would be to be able to hug our loved ones who are gone from time to time. Just like when someone lives in another country, and you see them on special dates.
My Beloved Maita, I remember her every day, sometimes I don't think she's gone.
I keep the hope of embracing her again in eternity.