In Loving Memory of Emilia Miranda (08/20/1921 - 09/10/2011)
When I was younger I was afraid of my Nana. She always seemed to know when I was planning mischief. It seemed like she always caught me when I was playing where I shouldn't be or getting into something I wasn't supposed to. I can't forget the look on her face as she'd lean down to my level, shake her head at me and say "No mijita, eso no se hace." And while in those moments she was stern and critical, I quickly learned to recognize the smile behind these looks. The older I got and the more I got to know her, the more I respected her. She was a strong woman. Her strength and independence were two of her most beautiful characteristics. She passed that strength on to her daughters. My Nana faced many obstacles in her life, and there were times when she struggled, but because of her faith in God, and because of her strength, she proved that while life isn't always easy, it can be lived, and it can be enjoyed.
The strength I saw in her, and the strength I see in my Mother is a characteristic I pray to have inherited.
And as she aged, each passing year seemed to draw out her sweet side more and more. Every time I'd visit, she was so glad to see me. Every time I spoke to her on the phone, she was so glad to talk to me. I can still hear her voice in my head, each time we would say goodbye over the phone, she would say "Que Dios te vendiga Mija" in a loud voice, sometimes several times, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't get to say it before I hung up.
The very first time I introduced her to my boyfriend, she looked at him and said, "That's my grandson." And she was right.
We spoke on her 90th birthday. I was teasing her when I told her she had to remember to eat all of her food so she could be strong and live to be 100. She laughed at me and told me that 90 years was a long time to live. She told me that she had felt every one of those years and that she was ready to be with the Lord, and with my Tata.
I loved my grandmother. And her love for me was strong and sweet and special. The realization that she won't be there anymore when I call hurts more than I can express.
Goodbye sweet Nana.
The strength I saw in her, and the strength I see in my Mother is a characteristic I pray to have inherited.
And as she aged, each passing year seemed to draw out her sweet side more and more. Every time I'd visit, she was so glad to see me. Every time I spoke to her on the phone, she was so glad to talk to me. I can still hear her voice in my head, each time we would say goodbye over the phone, she would say "Que Dios te vendiga Mija" in a loud voice, sometimes several times, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't get to say it before I hung up.
The very first time I introduced her to my boyfriend, she looked at him and said, "That's my grandson." And she was right.
We spoke on her 90th birthday. I was teasing her when I told her she had to remember to eat all of her food so she could be strong and live to be 100. She laughed at me and told me that 90 years was a long time to live. She told me that she had felt every one of those years and that she was ready to be with the Lord, and with my Tata.
I loved my grandmother. And her love for me was strong and sweet and special. The realization that she won't be there anymore when I call hurts more than I can express.
Goodbye sweet Nana.
posted by nydiathegreat at 9:10 PM
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