La Vida.

Life. A simple word with a complex meaning. Life can be found in many different places and things. Along with life also comes legacy. There is a legacy left behind by every person and/or thing who has ever lived a life. Some legacies are by far more eventful, meaningful, and substantial than others', but no matter whose legacy it is, not one is more important than another. Some people say that a mind is a terrible thing to waste, but i beg to differ. My approach comes along the lines of a life being a terrible thing to lose. I lost my great-grandmother on February 22nd. She was the oldest person in my family, on both sides. At 10:50 pm on February 25th, I received a call from my sister asking me if I spoke to one of my aunts, as I let her question marinate in my mind, I slowly came to terms with the fact that someone very dear to me was gone. Forever. And all that I had left in remembrance was their legacy. The person was still a cloud to me. At first, I thought it was my father. I then realized that it couldn't have been him because The Call would have came from my mother. After my sister told me that my great grandmother passed away 3 days ago, and we were just being told, my initial feeling of being upset came from not being told in a reasonable time. Family is family, regardless of our differences. 4 seconds later my aunt called. Me and my aunt resemble each other in many ways, the most prominent being our goofiness, but more importantly our ability to come off nonchalant during times in which most would panic. Her calmness essentially calmed me down. The fact that I had lost such an important piece of my life long puzzle didn't have its full affect until about 5 minutes later when I decided to call my father. This would be the 1st time since mid December that we had spoken, and it would be due to the fact that his grandmother died. This woman was more than a grandmother to him. She was his light. Whenever there was a moment of uncertainty she was always there for him, pushing him until the cloud of obscurity was completely diminished. I remember when I was in 5th grade and my dad moved back to Detroit so that he could take care of her after her husband died. At first, I was disappointed, but then I realized later on that he did it as a form of repayment. Most successful adults wouldn't want to live with their ailing grandmother, but he was different. As my father answered the phone with a simple "Hello", the average person wouldn't be able to gather much, but not me. I immediately knew there was something wrong. He asked who it was, which really hurt me. It hurt because, even though we haven't been talking much as of late, I got the vibe that he forgot my voice, which should never be a factor in our relationship. That's when it hit me. I felt it like a 400lb NFL lineman completely trampling on my stomach. Like a freight train slowly ripping through my insides like a saw through a tree limb. A feeling of utter helplessness. It was depressing. Then came the tears. They were brief, but made an impression while they lasted. My eyes burn as if they were an inch deep cut being thoroughly sanitized with rubbing alcohol. I can't believe it. I was just talking about her earlier, and to receive a phone call saying that life had escaped her body was one of the last things that I would have fathomed to happen today. I guess writing really is my release, because with each keystroke, I'm realizing that I don't have to ever worry about having another conversation about how she isn't happy with her nurses, or about the different operations and procedures that haven't been working. I now know that she is no longer suffering. All the pain is gone. I know that, even though her life is over on earth, its going to be remembered by her amazing legacy, and that she will forever live on in Heaven. Rest In Peace Grandmom.