Jan 29, 2013
English P6
Ms. Murray
Cristobal Ayala
Personal Memoir
“5! 4! 3! 2! 1! Happy New Year!”
Laughter and cheers rotate around the room, filling the party up with a joyful spirit that
had not been there. Cheap bottles of champagne opened; everyone cheered, fake smiles
displayed behind false emotions.
Andrea comes over to hug me and, surprisingly, whispers in my ear “Everything is going
to be okay, I love you.” And, as an afterthought, “Happy New Year.”
I smile; honestly feeling reassured and comforted, happy my family could be together for
this moment. The television clatters on, spouting information no one needs to know about the
year 2014. The rest of my family and siblings hug me and wish me a Happy New Year, when I
notice the person who most needs to be congratulated.
I close the door gently, shutting off the sounds from the room outside. It is as if I have
entered a whole new world. While a party of eight is going on outside, there is somber classical
music playing in this room, and soft candlelight flickering. I approach the bed in the room, where
she is laying. My grandma lay on the bed, hands crossed as if Sleeping Beauty, only if Sleeping
Beauty was 86 years old and mentally unstable.
I lay beside her and whispered, “Happy New Year Yayis, its 2014.” She does not
respond, lying limply in her bed, occasionally twitching or moving slightly. I hug her gently, not
wanting to damage the long plastic tube that winded from a bulky, sinister looking machine to
my grandmas nose. “Oh Yayis, you’ve made it for so long now, almost a century...” I hold her
hand tightly, as if this was my last time with her. The scary thing was, maybe it was. My
grandma’s wispy mousy hair floated in front of her forehead, and I pushed it back. I studied her,
trying to remember this exact moment in time, and to polish and store this memory forever. I was
hyperaware of my situation; I could feel the faint, stuttering heartbeat of my grandma against my
steady one; I could smell every particle in the room, heavy and laced with incense smoke. I could
feel how the Earth was moving, slowly rotating, forever hurtling closer to the sun as time goes
by. I contemplated death, as I could feel it in the room, and wondered if I would be lucky enough
to have the death that Yayis is having. She is surrounded by family and is in peace, she is no
longer in pain. She is free from the suffering of this world, the pain that many people cannot
handle.
On Christmas Eve, my grandma had gotten very ill, and as she had already been very
frail for over a year, she was in a lot of pain. She cried and screamed, and my aunt, who had been
staying with her, was terrified. Yayis was not the sort of woman that would cry. My whole
family was notified, including me, and we had to return from the beach to see her.
When I got back to Monterrey, my grandma had already fallen into a deep drug induced
sleep. It tore at my heart that I would never talk with her again, as the doctor had said that she
would probably never awake again from that sleep. I arrived to Monterrey one day before New
Years, and when I first entered my grandma’s room, it felt like a monastery. My cousins and
brothers had been lying in bed with her, talking to her softly in the ear, hoping for some sort of
sign that she could hear. This room, no, this pre-mature funeral, would become my home for a
whole week. Aunts and uncles would come and go, but I would stay all day, rarely sleeping
without my grandma beside me. It amazed me how my father and uncles would only come for a
few hours, when it’s their mother that is on her deathbed. If it was my mother that was dying, I
would never leave her, but every family has their own special dysfunctions and quirks. The only
weird thing was that, the week I spent with my grandma was one of the best experiences that I
have ever had with my family. My family would win prizes for being dysfunctional, and as we
had never been very unified, we didn’t see a lot of each other. That week was the first week in
my life where I had actual, real conversations with an aunt, and I met an uncle for the first time.
We bonded, and it amazed me how my grandma unified her family, even in death.
Before I enter the room, I prepare myself. “This is the last time that will see Yayis, ever
again” I think to myself, repeating it to myself, and even though I had prepared for it, I couldn’t
believe it. I recall the call from Andrea that I got 30 minutes ago, that told me to come
immediately to Yayi’s house, that she had stopped breathing, and that we could not do anything
about it. A heavy breath of air escapes my mouth, and I step inside the room. Hypnotic music
plays in the background, and Aunt Monica and Andrea are lying beside my grandma, my Aunt
crying softly, and my sister doing nothing to comfort her, as if she couldn’t be comforted herself.
I sit down beside the bed; the chair’s wooden back digging against my spine, forcing me to sit
up. I grab Yayi’s hand, and I am shocked when I feel that her hand is extremely cold.
“When you are about to die, you lose the heat from your body,” I think, finally realizing
that my Yayis is not going to get better. I do not cry, I just cradle my grandma’s hand, and talk to
her softly.
“Yayis, you can let go now. You can be free, no longer burdened with the terrible weight
that you hold in your shoulders. You can be back with your son and your husband, you will be
young again. Don’t worry about us, we will be fine. I will miss you. I love you.” I stayed like
this for about an hour, when my dad told me that it was time to go, as it was already 2 am.
I didn’t want to go, and before I could say anything, Mom told Dad, “You can go if you
want, but Ill stay here, if anybody wants to stay.” Andrea and me immediately say yes, and so we
stay.
“Cris, Cris, Cris. Wake up.” I can feel hands shaking at me gently, my mom with a
nervous tone in her voice. I sit up from the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Mom says, “Cris, Yayis died.” I fling the blanket away from my body, and walk slowly
towards my grandma’s room, never responding to my mom. I enter the room, and I can see
Andrea and Brenda leaning over my grandma. Brenda is crying, and Andrea is also crying,
hugging her. I just think, “Yayis is home now.” I go up to her beside the bed and hug her,
whispering as if it was a secret, “I love you.” Aunt Monica comes over and cries beside her too,
while I think “Yayis, you’re with God now, or whatever comes after this life. You will be free.” I
grab her hand, now icy cold, something I had forgotten that comes with death. I rock her hand
back and forth, talking to her, having my last conversation with her, but at least its in my mind.
Strangely enough, I do not cry, I feel numb, like an out of body experience. I wonder to
myself why I do not cry, as it is the normal thing to do, but they do not come. Minutes pass,
while Andrea, Mom, aunt Monica and Brenda talk quietly about death and Yayis. I do not say
anything. Then, Andrea decided to put a song in her iPad. While I hear it, I slowly recognize it. I
remember the long nights I spent with my grandma, watching a movie and crying together, and
then watching it again, reminiscing about life and death. I remember buttery popcorn and her
crooked smile. I remember Cinema Paradiso and its love song, its sadness and hope. I remember
my grandma, with her terrible brokenness but also her brave and selfless heart, joining a family
in the most unexpected of times. I remember unexpected laughs and inappropriate jokes. I
remember Yayis, and how I will miss her so much. That is when I start to cry.
Yayis was an exceptional woman. She had her problems, but she was the world most
caring and devoted mother and grandmother a person could have. Her motherly love for her
family and her tremendous kindness for the people around her made her a very special person,
someone that I had the pleasure to meet and live with. You’re death was incredible Yayis. More
sad than Les Miserables, which you loved so much, but more beautiful than the grand ending of
the New York Symphonic, which you enjoyed so much when I showed you their Youtube
videos. Yayis, I wish you could still be here with me, but now you are in another place with your
son and husband, where you will be free from the pain that the world put on your shoulders. Like
you said, “I wish I could make you tiny, so you could fit in my heart.” That is what I will do; I
will carry you forever, in my heart.