There is a lump in my throat and a banging in my ears when I read this question. Sometimes I can see myself as more of a retrospective person than a future-oriented one. I like looking back, watching the pages turn, and finding comfort in the known. To be honest, if I could pick one of those oceans of warmth inside my mind and keep them on tape, I would mention all the memories I spent with my grandparents. I treasure all the little moments with them—the time when my grandparents and I spent together in their small home. It’s a kind of comfort that nips at the skin and lingers right down to the bone.

I remember back then, whenever we used to visit them, my grandmother would eagerly wait for us and announce to everyone that we were coming. She would welcome us with so much merriment and a beautiful smile on her face. We would sit in the living room while my parents caught up on life, and grandma and mom would share food recipes to experience the unparalleled comfort found in hearty meals that could warm us right down to our toes. And I would be there, in my favorite place—grandpa’s embrace. I would sit on his knee as a young child while he complained about me being heavy and loud. I have loved talking ever since I was a kid, chattering like a broken record, which would make him giggle in response.

Grandpa was dignified and quiet. I never heard a loud or harsh word from his mouth, but, almost as if on purpose, he loved to hear me talk. On the other hand, my grandmother was the biggest talker, yet very soft-spoken. I loved their dynamic. They loved each other but always bickered. I still remember how my grandma would always compliment me for being the smartest and prettiest in the room while I told her about school. She loved me so much. She never asked any favors from me, and she was the one from whom I learned what love is. When you love somebody purely, you just want to see them happy. I could write a book on how much she loved me and all the things she did for me. Both she and my grandpa were people I could always rely on. They had forever to listen to my ramblings, my pleas, and my whatnots.

I hold all those memories close to me on sleepless nights, through long journeys, and during turbulence. If I had the chance to put them on tape, I would do it in a heartbeat, wrap it with a ribbon, and engrave their warmth in my chest. I miss them even more after answering this question. I realize that I’m so bad at goodbyes and processing the absence of someone I love. Grief is a difficult emotion to deal with, isn’t it? But thank you for the question, sweet Ruru. 🤍