I visit my grandma because I never want her to feel alone. When my grandfather passed away, I remember looking at her and realizing how much her world had changed in a single moment. From then on, I made a promise to show up for her the way she had always shown up for me.
Now our visits have become their own little tradition: simple, quiet, and full of the things that make her smile. We sit together doing word finds and puzzles, celebrating every time she finds a tricky word before I do. We share meals that somehow always turn into eating way more than we planned. We laugh over a crossword clue or argue playfully about who cheated on the puzzle.
I don’t visit just out of duty. I visit because these are the moments that matter. Because she isn’t alone. And because being with her reminds me of where I come from, and the kind of person I want to be.
Now our visits have become their own little tradition: simple, quiet, and full of the things that make her smile. We sit together doing word finds and puzzles, celebrating every time she finds a tricky word before I do. We share meals that somehow always turn into eating way more than we planned. We laugh over a crossword clue or argue playfully about who cheated on the puzzle.
I don’t visit just out of duty. I visit because these are the moments that matter. Because she isn’t alone. And because being with her reminds me of where I come from, and the kind of person I want to be.