Ugh. Man. I don’t tear up easily but this one got me right in the heart of all the feels.

My Grandmother (who essentially raised me) was suffering from Diabetes/Dementia/Parkinson’s/Alzheimer’s. I had honestly started to mourn “her” a few years prior as what she was fading into was a shadow of her former self.

During the last Christmas we spent together, she was unusually talkative and energetic. She’d stare at me for long periods of time and when our eyes met I’d smile and say “Hey Grandma!” As the night went on, she asked if she could talk to me in private, so we walked to the hallway where she proceeded to tell me that I “needed to grow up and patch things up with my moms name, you have a little boy now that you don’t see or spend time with. You want my name to grow up without a father?! Little my name looks just like you!” She thought she was talking to my biological father concerning baby “me.” She knew him better than I ever did or would. He was never a part of my life.

As the evening was wrapping up and pie was being cut, my Grandmother turns to me and says “Mijo! Are you still dating that pretty blonde white girl? The way she looks at you, I can tell she loves you! And are you still taking good care of that red car? Don’t let anybody drive it, they’ll try to steal it!” I just smiled and nodded and gave her a hug.

The girl she was referencing had dumped me 15 years prior and I’d sold the “red car” shortly after that.