Life is but a cycle

My grandfather used to say that life is but a cycle, with nothing before or after, only the here and now. He was a very practical and wise person. Maybe he was right or perhaps he was wrong and we'll see each other again someday. That's what I believe in.

Last Thursday it was my Grandma's time to meet those loved ones who already crossed the road.

My grandmother was an amazing woman. She challenged the conventions of her youth's time sneaking out to go play volleyball hidden from my grandfather. But she was also a strong example of her generation. She loved her two daughters with all her heart. She struggled to give them the best education. She loved her four granddaughters with the same strength and devotion. She became a great-grandmother with the same dedication, even from afar. She took care of everyone around her. Whenever someone came to her for help, there she was with arms (and doors) open. There was no lack of love. Never. It was possible to see it in her eyes.

My grandmother was fragrant. She left the bathroom and the whole house stayed perfumed. Her skin held the scent so strongly like I never saw in anyone else. And her amazing perfume hung in the air for hours.

She loved gardening, knitted the most beautiful sweaters and jackets, made the best "streusel cakes".

Whenever we went to spend the summer with her, we were greeted with the most genuine smile and a house full of delights: chocolate bars, pasta, cookies, lasagnas, pies biscuits, and a freezer full of ice cream, everything made by her . Her delights were so disputed that, at dessert time, due to the fight over the size of the slices, my grandfather got annoyed and said to "bring the measuring tape," so that there wouldn't be any difference between the slices.

In winter, when we it was only the two of us and we were already cozy in our warm beds, she used to ask me with a mischievous look: "How about some pudding?", And went down stairs to prepare the delight in the cold kitchen.

The mischievous look was always there when it came to desserts or gifts she was preparing to someone. As well as biting the tip of her tongue. Trademarks of my grandma.

She didn't like watermelons. She grew up with stories that watermelon kills people, and so she didn't eat it. After years married to a German guy who loved watermelons, and seeing all of us eating it in the backyard during the hot summer afternoons, she was still unwilling to even try. She didn't like melted ice cream. If it was just beginning to melt, she already thought it was too soft.

She loved coffee with milk and bread. She reveled in a slice of bread with butter and honey, and a cup of coffee with hot milk. Yes, it had to be very hot. She had a very sweet tooth: she loved pies, desserts, chocolate bars (which she ate gnawing like a bunny).

On cold winter mornings, she would open the windows and let the cold air in to ventilate the house. She put pillows and blankets in the sun and went down stairs to prepare breakfast. Only after everything was ready she would come to wake me up. When I said that she didn't need to pamper me like that, she replied that grandmas are made to pamper their grandchildren and said, "I am your mom made of sugar."

When, on my fifteenth birthday, I came back from a trip bringing in the suitcase a stuffed dog wearing an overall, she liked it so much that I ended up giving the dog to her as a gift. Until then, I had never seen her take an interest in stuffed animals. Many years later, she would have several.

She was always singing. One of her greatest passions: music. She had a beautiful voice that graced all who had the privilege of listening to her. She loved Pavarotti and got emotional with his interpretations.

She loved the Italian characters interpreted by the actor Raul Cortez.

Later in life she had her precious memories stolen, taken against her will. She went back to being a child: she loved dolls and stuffed animals. She continued to revel in desserts and coffee with milk for some time. Her passion, the music, was the last thing to leave her. She didn't know the lyrics anymore, but for some time she still recognized the melodies. Gradually everything went away. She didn't deserve it. She was endearing to the end, even in her world without memories. But forgetting us or not, I know very well who she was and she'll always remain in my heart. She deserved all the affection, love and respect with which she treated all who crossed her path.

Now she's free. Freed from the fetters of time, from oblivion, from pain. She can finally rest from her years in "blank".

Here remain her lessons of life, kindness, love. With her I learned to appreciate the little things in life, the delicacy of nature, to see happiness in small things. I learned the true meaning of joy every day, of support and respect for others.

During her stay in this world, she made it better, prettier, cozier. The cycle is closed. And what a wonderful cycle it was.

Thank you, grandma, for all the love you gave. For all the warmth that you always showed. For all the care you had with those you loved. Your love made all of us better people.

Now fly, fly free and happy. Meet again your German, your brothers and friends, your parents. You shall always be present in our hearts

Be at peace, my mommy made of sugar, be at peace.