Sacred Time

 Amid the dimmed lights and the ambient music, my beloved grandma, her green eyes clouded with fatigue, lay struggling to hold onto her last breaths. She was a wonderful woman, loved by everyone around her, because of all the love she had to give. The two mentally strongest women I know are my grandma, and my mom, but physically my grandma was losing her battle with cancer. I began my speech to let her know I’ll be okay without her, and the tears began to flow. As she grunted uncomfortably, her smile upon noticing me made me look past the surrealness of the situation before me. I had lived with the child within me still naive to our mortality. We want to live on forever with the love we are surrounded with, the smiles, the warmth in your heart when engulfed in each other's arms, and the memories of our friends that we want to never let go between our grasp. However, in the grand scheme of the universe's timeline, we are alive for just the blink of an eye. There is simply not enough time for us to alter through how to spend our time with families and friends, and our countless responsibilities. 4 days before I turned 20 years old, I was forced to come to the realization that the time spent with your loved ones is not infinite, which therefore means every moment with them is sacred.

 I thought I was aware that our time on earth does not last forever. I see it all the time on news channels, on social media. I comment to myself, “man, how unfortunate,” and with that their names fall back into my memory banks that I am unable to currently reach. However, there is some childish hangnail that I’ve clung to, hoping that I’ll never have to face the death of those I love. In the coming days of my grandma’s passing, I convinced myself I was prepared to let her go. I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my life, but within these moments I can search and find solitude. I sat in silence along her bedside, holding her hand as she rested. She would occasionally wake, and upon noticing me her eyes would gleam and her smile would strengthen. I handed her the only picture on her bedside table, a picture of a younger me and my mischievous grin, encased by a ceramic angel frame. She used the last of her energy for the day to lift her head, so that she can look upon the photo of her dearest and only grandson one last time. This moment resonated with me because I realized I was her angel, and soon she would be mine. I began to understand that these tribulating times will stick with me forever, ultimately progressing my growth as a human being.

 I’d been woken up at 8:11 am by the distant wails of my family. My vision, blurred by the forthcoming of my tears, drew me to her bedroom. My grandma’s vessel lay there still, but I knew her soul was somewhere else. The body before me was no longer my grandma, and my grandpa, despite his sturdy frame,  sat beside her fragile as a vase. He welcomed my embrace of support, and his tears dampened my shoulder. I felt nothing, as if this was all a dream. I reached for the glass of water on the table, and the liquid of life made me feel present again. I consoled every person I saw, and somehow this consoled myself. I called my mom, and when my voice began to break, despite her losing her mother, her voice became as strong as iron. With all the different emotions, the uncertainty, and the bombardment of my own inner thoughts, I felt as if I was being suffocated. I took a step outside, and felt grounded again. Nature was calling to me, so I let her guide me to an unknown destination.

 The freshness of the new dawn still lingered. I looked up in the vibrant sky as if whatever I was searching for was waiting for me amongst the void. My steps were in sync with my heart beat, and I looked down at my all black outfit, “how fitting”, I thought. As I traversed through the bushes near my grandparent’s home, the life in the creek below me carried on with their tasks, and the hurried people continued on their daily walk. I thought for a moment how odd that no one crossing paths with me knew the pain I was currently going through. Then it hit me, they did, for life and death are the most humane thing in the world. I stopped for a moment, and I realized only life surrounded me. The water rippled, and the wind whistled its familiar tune. I observed a hawk perched upon its branch, paying no mind to me. I felt at home, as if I belonged in this moment exactly where I stood. I wondered, how could something so beautiful lay right before me? I became present enough to understand just how fortunate I am to be alive. It was then I realized because of the microscopic chance we are able to exist, one singular life is the most important thing in the whole universe. I am the most sacred existence in the whole vastness of time and space, and you are as well. However, because of this opportunity, we only get to experience existence for a brief moment in history. Every second we live, we must make it count. We have the impossible task of being able to allocate our time into our interests and the things we love to do. Had I somehow known the date of my grandma’s passing, I would’ve spent every moment I could with her as her time would run out. It was not until she was gone I realized, everyone I love will pass on. Time with my friends, and most importantly my parents, are limited. Knowing this, I cherish every single moment with them, and someday I hope my own kids will cherish every single moment with me. I now know for certain that my parents came to the same realization the first moment they held me in their arms.

 Yet a delicate conversation, the realization I came to because of my experience must not be shelved away in the depth of my heart. The only way to prove we are alive is the fact that we are mortal. When one lives, one also dies. We have this understanding, yet why is it so difficult to come to terms with? The point is, I stand here today proud of the existence I am creating for myself. However tragic this pandemic has been, through the anxiety, the uncertainty, and the heartache accompanied with loss, there is a silver lining. I’ve sat down and eaten dinner with my family every night of this year. We’ve spent July 4th, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years together. Only throughout this pandemic, and the loss of my beloved grandma,  have I realized how grateful I am for the limited time I get to spend with my family. Whether it’s conversations with my mom, working alongside my dad, watching The Bachelor with my step-mom, or going to my sister’s house in San Diego, I am appreciative of it all. People spend their whole lives on the pursuit of happiness, searching for something to feel whole. I am fortunate enough to realize that the light I’ve been searching for, my family, has been in front of me this whole time, and now finally I’m able to plant my roots and grow as a human being.