Recently, I read a newsletter which provokes the very heart of anyone into being stirred. In essence, it is a subject most anyone can relate to- that of loss, grieving and going through the stages that eventually allow us to find peace. I won’t refer to it for privacy of the writer and wish it serves as comfort through this difficult time. In this writing, I don’t intend for it to overpower that eloquent writer’s story of discovery. Nor do I wish it to be a somber excerpt of the correspondence I subscribe to, but a view of my own on the subject. I would hope that in the least, it extends warm thoughts and peace to those who understand and need it.

When I was a very young girl, I experienced the first loss in one I loved so dearly, my maternal Grandmother, Zoila. To me she represented as much as my Mom if not more for so many additional reasons we find in loving grandparents. They seem to have that much more when anxious thrill is felt at the thought of seeing them, hugging, talking or merely playing. I particularly loved exploring her facial features, looking into her eyes as she admiringly smiled back with them. They were beautiful, light brown eyes with a twinkle I’d hope to never forget. Her cheeks were full and rounded out more in her big warm smiles. That’s how I gave her a nickname: “carita de manzana” – (little apple face). Oh how I loved to smoosh her face between my hands and gently yank on those cheeks! I guess she appeared as a doll to me, since she was a jolly playtime pal to us all. What’s funny is, each of us (all eight) of her grandchildren, thought somehow that our grandma was all ours- exclusively ours! I mean, I thought I was her favorite and so did all my siblings. Nowadays we’ll still recall moments to try proving that to each other and it’s splendid to know she had infinite love for everyone. Enough love, you ask? No. Love is never enough unless it is both given and received. Grandma had more than enough. This is where the word essence comes into play. Read on…