Now What, Grandma?

Remember our early morning talks, grandma?
When you’d keep reminding me that my education is everything.
When you’d tell me to love myself so that people would love me.
When you’d tell me to drink a lot of water, and wash my face every chance I get.

Why can’t you do that anymore, grandma?
I miss it. I miss you.

I miss the days when you’d make lunch, and teach me your recipes.
I miss the days when you’d let me listen to some French tapes and practice.
I miss when you’d put a book on my head and tell me to walk.
I miss when I’d walk into your room already knowing that you’re probably watching the news.
I miss when I’d hug you in the morning, and you’d hold me for a second longer.
I miss when you’d need my help with your 19 cats, and how I memorized all their names because of that. I miss it.

Now, I have so many questions that I’d only ask you.
I have so many doubts, and the type of unsureness that drew a black hole in my mind.
I fell so many times, and you’re not there to help me up anymore.

I’m still not strong enough, mama.
I miss you, and I don’t know what to do.