A new hole in my heart

and just like that. 

my mom called me this afternoon as I was in the library waiting to meet with a professor. I was a little annoyed (with the professor) because I left what would have been a great interview to go meet him. Since we had been playing phone tag for months, I chose this meeting over the interview. I arrived at his office and he was in another meeting. so I waited.

then my mom called.

I couldn't hear her at all. As soon as the phone disconnected my brother called from his cell phone. That is when I knew. My mother called me the other day, the day I found out my friend Lisbeth had passed away. She never asks me where I am when she calls. That day, I was in a taxi on my way to a meeting. No importa, she connected me to my aunt who had just had surgery. Today, I didn't think too much of my mother's call. She has a plan now where it doesn't cost much to call my cell phone here and I know she is going through a hard time with my Nana's health. But my brother? We haven't spoken in months. He called me immediately after my mother. 

I didn't even want to answer the phone because I knew. Hearing the news would not have made it any more real than the feelings in my gut, which was already quite real.

It was not my brother, but instead my mother's voice on the other end, telling me my grandmother passed that morning. She was crying. I was crying. Maybe she heard me trying to muffle my sobs, because only then did she ask where I was. "in the library," I answered.

she apologized profusely as if there was anything that could have been done. I already knew why she called and even if she had asked where I was, and if I had responded "in the library" before the news was delivered, I would have demanded she say the words. Because I already knew.  She continued apologizing, as if she did something wrong, and I said I would call back when I got home.

Immediately I cried. Loudly. Publicly. in the library at the university of Panama. I ran out. Luckily, the university is walking distance from my apartment so I walked furiously telling myself "aguantalo. aguantalo. aguantalo" (hold it in. hold in it. hold it in) I almost made it all the way home. They are repairing one of the elevators and the wait for the lone functioning elevator was too long. I could not aguantarlo anymore. So there in the lobby, I just let it out.  I am sure the people in the elevator felt awkward upon their exit, but I am trying to get over my distaste for crying in public. 

Then all my guilt hit me. For days I have been wanting to call my grandmother. but I didn't. why? because last time we spoke I wanted to breakdown and cry right in her ear because she did not sound anything like herself. and to stop myself from doing that, I just didn't call. Well how do I feel about that decision now?? selfish. and like shit. Who cares how hard it is for me??? She would have appreciated the calls. and I should have made them. 

For the first few minutes I just cried. Then I wanted to clean (because that is what I do when I am sad. I cook. I clean. I organize). Our cleaning lady (this is normal for Panama) just came that morning so I had nothing to clean. I called my mother. 

Last time I spoke to my Nana, no one wanted to end the conversation. We just kept saying I love you. I didn't hang up because she didn't hang up and for about two full minutes it was bye. I love you. I love you too. bye. I love you. I love you. bye.  I know there are a million ways to regret what should have happened during someone's life. I am glad I told her I was planning to go see her for her birthday rather than keeping that a surprise.  I am glad I saw her before I left for Panama and that I treated her to dinner at her favorite place, USA diner. I am grateful for all the wonderful things she did for me in her lifetime.  I can't even begin to imagine holidays without her. I will never again see my grandmother alive. 

Just yesterday I went to the funeral mass for one of the best people I have met here in Panama. And today I have no grandparents. The doctors said six months. None of us believed that. Be that as it may, no one thought it would be less than one month either. We thought we would get to celebrate her 90th birthday on June 18th. This is our 30 (me), 60 (mom), 90 (Nana) year.

We are an incomplete triangle. 

I would have gone back sooner, Nana. I thought about you every single day. If I knew it would be this quick, I would have gone back. And I really really hope you knew that.

... Bye... I love you...