The Coldest Week
The last week of January is always the coldest week of the year for me. Two women who were a huge part of my life passed away decades apart in the same week. I think that's partially why I'm not really a fan of my birthday week because it comes so close to that cold week. People passing away suddenly never sits well with me, and that's why that coldness never really goes away. Twenty-seven years ago, I lost the first person who really understood me, helped guide me into the person I am today, and never made me feel like I was weird. My grandma was a saint. She was my mother's mother. A teacher, a helper, someone who would give her all to help someone else, even if it was a total stranger. She had this aura, this presence of peace and kindness that was just omnipresent. She was creative and encouraged my creativity, much like my mom does today. She had seen a lot of the world for what it was, endured the prejudices within it, but held on to her faith and empathy ...