Having my grandmother leave was hard. She was the backbone of my life and was always there when I needed her. It was hard to say goodbye, because everything happened so fast. One day my grandma was doing fine, and the next she had to go back to China. Right before she left, she pulled me aside. In our last moment together, she hugged me and told me to study hard. Before I could say goodbye, she walked out the door. Just like that, my grandmother was gone.


On that day, I didn’t just lose my grandmother. No, I lost a lot more. I lost my educator, guide, caretaker, mentor, and most importantly my best friend. Without her, I was like a lost hiker with a broken compass. Yet, no one told me why she had to leave. All my parents told me that she had to get some surgery. I was frustrated and wanted to know what was going on. Then one day the phone rang, and it was my grandmother. I couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.


Her voice was weak and soft, but even through the phone I could hear her passion and zest. My grandma asked me to study hard and to focus on schoolwork. I urged her that I was studying as hard as I could and asked if she was alright. She said not to worry about her, and that she would be fine. I believed her and thought she would come home soon. Little did I know, my grandma was dying, and this was the last time I would speak to her.


Shortly after the conversation, my grandma was revealed to have liver cancer. The news came to me as shock, but I was not worried. My grandma had fought many battles in her life, and she was a tough woman. It would take more than just a cancer to get her down. She was going to get better and come home soon. These positive thoughts could not change reality though. The cancer was in advanced stages and was spreading quickly. She was only expected to live a couple more months. Yet, I still grabbed on to a shred of hope that she would fight it through.


When the news came, I was walking back from summer school. My dad calmly told me that she had passed away the day before. He tried to console me by saying that she was in a better place now free of pain and suffering, but I couldn’t believe it. There had to be a mistake. There’s no way that she was gone forever. I didn’t even say goodbye to her.



My stubbornness to accept the facts was useless though. My grandmother was gone. Forever. I was angry, doubtful, and frustrated all at the same time. I could not get over the fact that I didn’t talk with her during her final months. I wanted to tell her how much she meant to me and that I will never forget her. I just couldn’t grasp that I would never be able to see her again.




For the next few days I recalled all the fond memories I’ve had with my grandma. From teaching me how to add and subtract to guiding me through tough times in life, she was always there for me. Recounting the times that both of us had shared brought me more than a peace of mind. It gave me inspiration to continue her legacy. No, death would not have the final say. I started to look at old pictures of us together and started to write this piece. This piece serves as a dedication to my grandmother and my way of saying thanks for everything she’s done for me.



Death may have gotten a hold on her, but even death cannot take away all the wonderful moments and memories we’ve shared together. My only wish is to talk with her one last time. To tell her how much I’ve missed her, and that she will be forever with me.