How You Doing Lola?

September 11 will always be a date everyone remembers. I remember five years ago thinking that World War Three was starting (which, to some effect, I guess it has. Maybe not as definitive as previous wars, but make no mistake, we obviously are not living in peaceful times). I remember waking up, groggily, and watching it on TV. My Lola was there watching it too, doing her trademarked "tsk tsk tsk" as she watched it. I remember being transfixed to the TV screen, thinking it was a dream. What was this world coming to?

I went to school, and it was eerie. Everyone was leaving the city while I was coming in. When Walter and I got to school, all the chaos was just starting; everyone was panicking, all these rumours of the high rise buildings in Downtown were closed. Our class was eventually cancelled, and Walter and I expected to be stuck behind hoards of people going home. But for some reason, it wasn't. I guess everyone was home already, or prolly didn't go to the city at all.

When I got home, I watched TV coverage for perhaps three-four hours straight. While I don't remember it specifically, I'm pretty sure I also prayed with my Lola that night, our customary one mystery (apparently I became too busy for a whole rosary as I got older).

* * *

Exactly two years later, my Lola passed away on a hospital bed, stricken with cancer. My whole family was there, and everyone was crying. Except me. I didn't cry. I still haven't cried. I refuse to, because I saw what cancer did to her. I also remember being somewhat...relieved? My Lola had all the faith in the world in God (more than I think I ever will have). There is no doubt in my mind she's in heaven with Him.

As I get older, the cemetary visits become less frequent, the thoughts of her become less and less. Life goes on, and save for a couple of memories, I'm sure she understands why I'm not so outward with my emotions or actions when I think of her (at least I hope she does). I'm not immature enough to blame anyone or wonder "why?" Death is as much a part of life as everything else.

I was preparing for the day that would eventually come exactly three years ago today. I chose to look at her life as part of her death. I remember a genuine woman who helped raise me be the man I am today; the man I aspire to be. I will always remember my Lola like this:

I am sorry life got so busy Lola. I'm sorry I haven't visited you as much as I should have. I still think of you every now and then. I want you to be proud of me, but I know I fail. While I know you won't be at my wedding physically, I somehow think you will still be there. Maybe I'll never cry that you are not with us here anymore, but don't mistake that for me not being sad. It's just easier this way.