Abuelita,
As the world makes its natural course, I'm not sure I can say goodbye. You were my first babysitter, my first advocate, my first best friend, and now you're so away I don't think anything can bring you back anymore. I don't want to say goodbye.
I remember always going on walks when I was younger, and even though we didn't always linguistically understand each other, we always spoke the same emotional and spiritual language. You never gave up on me, no matter how far, no matter how long I went without calling.
No one hugged me, lent their shoulder or cooked as great as you did. No one compared to your arepas con mantequilla y queso. No one told me the students from Colombia like you did. No one loved me unconditionally as you did. You always reminded me what life was worth and my broken Spanish was okay because you understood me and that was okay.
Every time I did something ridiculous and stupid, like trying to use my moms curling iron and getting half my hair stuck and brunt, you always made sure to get me out of it and never told my mom. We have so many little secrets together, like how much I really love you. I don't think I've ever told you; I always thought you already knew. It's too late for you to hear me abuelita and that's my fault. I never thought you were going anywhere. You were always the strongest, toughest, take-no-shit-from-anyone woman and now I never get to remind you of that.
My superhero, mi "elita chequita," mi abuelita hermosa. I love you with all of my heart, even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved your love but you never let that stop you. You loved me unconditionally, still so. I'm sorry abuelita for never being there--even now. I'm to afraid to admit that I'm never going to be able to call you again. Never taste your arepas. Never hear the sadness in your voice when I forget to wish a happy birthday or Christmas. I'm never going to be able to hear how much you love me again.
Abuelita hermosa. Te amo.
