Missing You

My grandmother died on April 5, 2005. She was 92.

Grandma, hands down, was the first person to introduce music into my life. A very devout believer in God's Kingdom as the solution to mankind's problems and the Holy Scriptures as a guidebook to living a good life, she regularly had a Bible study with me, my sister, and my two cousins.

During these studies (held in our houses) us four young girls would learn about staying morally clean, obeying our parents, and of course Jesus Christ and Jehovah God. Each lesson would vary but always, and I can't emphasize this enough, we sang a religious song after opening prayer and before closing prayer. 

They were called Kingdom Melodies and they were beautiful. The songs were about doing God's will of telling good news to all, living forever in paradise, and no more pain. We sang them so much that we eventually had them memorized. And let me tell you, Grandma could carry a tune! She could hit those high notes like Mariah Carey!

As we got older, Grandma didn't feel the need to have Bible study with us anymore. She figured it was up to us now to take what she had taught us and find our own way. Some of us stuck to the teachings and some of us didn't. But all of us never forgot those Kingdom Melodies. How could we? Grandma was always singing them.

I would stop by her house to visit and eat (because you could never visit Grandma and not eat) and she would be in the kitchen making chicken adobo and humming a Kingdom Melody - letting those notes spin in the air along with the aromas of vinegar, soy sauce, and steamed rice.

One of my fondest memories of my Grandma was when she made homemade donuts. Flour was all over the place, especially in her hair and on her face and hands. I'd often linger by her side waiting to lick the batter from the spatula and bowl. Most of the time, I had to do it when she wasn't looking because she was paranoid of salmonella poisoning. Sometimes I got a lick in and sometimes I didn't. But one thing was certain, I'd be humming a Kingdom Melody right along with her before the last batch of donuts were done.

There was no doubt that Grandma not only had an appreciation for God but she had an appreciation for music. She loved to hear us girls play the piano (we all took lessons) and as kids we frequently put on impromptu shows of song and dance for her viewing and listening pleasure. She always clapped (even if she didn't know who New Kids on the Block were). As time went on and technology advanced, she was also able to enjoy Karaoke. Oh how she laughed whenever someone got a low score (that someone was usually me).

When I got married, she was pleasantly surprised to find out that my husband was like a one-man band and could play just about everything. He could even play some of those Kingdom Melodies on the guitar. Grandma was impressed and had my husband's back from then on. "Very nice music," she would tell him. Then she would turn to me and say, "don't be a tumultuous wife." 

She was sharp as a whip and sang those Kingdom songs up until she had a stroke in 2005. That's when she started fading fast. Coincidentally, it was a rough time for me. My husband had already left for California with high hopes of pursuing a music career. 

I stayed behind to tie up a few loose ends and those "ends", which included leaving a much-loved career and my family, were not easy to tie up at all. Now my grandmother was passing away and facing the inevitable was not easy without my husband around. They say that death and moving are among the top most stressful situations. I was dealing with both at the same time.

Before I flew out to Los Angeles for a few days to help my husband secure an apartment, I visited my Grandmother at the nursing home. I don't know if she was conscious of me or not but I stroked her hair and held her hand. Then I sang. 

I didn't care if anyone heard me and I didn't care if I sounded terrible. I sang every song she taught me, all the while praying that she wasn't in pain. I told her that I was going to California for a few days and that everything was okay and that she could go now and I'd see her in that paradise that she so often talked about. Then I gave her one last kiss on her forehead and left with a heavy heart.

I was only in Los Angeles a day or two when I got the call that my Grandmother was gone. I didn't cry at first and shed only a few tears later that night. The next day my husband and I flew back to Virginia for her funeral. 

It was a crisp and sunny afternoon. I still remember the pink and white petals from the flowers of the spring trees falling like snow -- something that never ceased to fascinate my grandmother ever since she came to America from a small province in the Philippines where there was no such thing as cold white stuff showering from the sky. 

We laid her to rest next to my grandfather who died 18 years prior and I realized that she went on for a long time without her other half. But I also realized that she had the hope of seeing my Grandpa again and that those Kingdom Melodies helped her keep that hope alive. We said one last goodbye and, of course, we sang those songs that she loved so much. 

Maybe I was in shock or maybe I didn't want to deal with it just then, but as I mentioned before I wasn't as emotional as I thought I would be. As the years passed by the memory of Grandmother's death faded into the back corners of my mind. 

But earlier this week, as I was lying in bed, thoughts of my Grandmother flashed in my mind like a lightning storm. I could see her face coated with flour, I could smell her cooking, and, most of all, I could hear her singing. 

Tears broke from my eyes like a heavy rain. All my husband could do was hold me. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"When did my Grandma die?" I managed to say.

He thought she had passed away in March but somehow I knew I was crying because it was close to the day of her death. The only thing that could calm me down was a song. I forced my thoughts upon the lyrics of one of my Grandmother's favorite Kingdom Melodies -- a song about restored youth, no more tears, and a resurrection of the dead -- and I let it carry me off to sleep like a lullaby. 

The next day I got curious and I looked up when my grandmother had died. It was no surprise that it was the night of April 5, 2005. I had broke down on the day and hour of the five-year anniversary of my Grandmother's death. 

It's funny how you can never forget certain things even if time has nearly erased them. There are events and people in your life that come to your mind like a song that you've heard a long time ago. Suddenly, you catch yourself singing it for no apparent reason and you can't get it out of your head.  

The memory of my Grandmother came back to me like a song. I'll sing it for the rest of my life along with those Kingdom Melodies. 

Wifey of a Roadie - Out!