I’ve avoided yesterday and today’s writing challenges due to my uncanny habit of hating the end of things, as weird as that sounds. Better late than never I suppose.
If there is any lesson this writing challenge has reinforced in me, it is that writing simply cannot be forced.
Day 29- Your aspirations, in great detail
I aspire to be extraordinary. We had a discussion in English many months ago on what we believed “being extraordinary” meant, and for some reason, this particular discussion has stuck with me. I don’t merely want to be anyone else’s sort of extraordinary, I want to be my own kind of extraordinary. I want to be laying on my death bed, looking back on my life, and feeling content and satisfied knowing that I lived my life to its fullest potential, stuck through the difficult days, and lived a life worth being proud of.
Honestly, I want to change people’s lives. My biggest dream, one I didn’t know I even had until recently, is to be a source of inspiration. I want people to look up to me and I want to help people.
I thought about being a psychologist for a while, but really, I just want to change how psychologists in today’s world work. I don’t find sitting in an office on a couch crying to a stranger who is being paid to listen to your problems is an effective treatment method. I want to change people’s lives by helping them express their feelings, find reasons for their feelings, and find solutions to their problems- much like a psychologist does- but in a different setting and different atmosphere.
I aspire to be extraordinary in my own way.
Day 30- One last moment, in great detail
My Quinceanera. I was doing the ceremony of the 15 candles; for those of you who don’t know, a common tradition during Quinceaneras is for the birthday girl to hand out 15 candles to the people in her life who have helped her through life and have helped her, in essence, become a “woman”.
My grandpa didn’t make it to my Quinceanera. He passed away seven months short of my special day and his absence is an ache I will carry in my heart for the rest of my life. I had plans of dancing with him during my party, even dreamed of having him walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, since he was more of a father to me than my actual father ever was or could ever dream of being. These dreams were crushed, along with all of the excitement I had building up for my party, but I of course still trudged along.
I made sure my grandma’s candle was the last to be handed. I originally was going to say a small speech for each person who was receiving a candle, but decided last minute I would only do a speech for my grandma, make it extra special.
I practiced my speech for two weeks before my party, mostly trying to get through it without crying so as to avoid ruining my makeup the day of my party. All of my efforts failed miserably because as soon as I walked to where my grandma was sitting, I began crying.
I am so eternally grateful I had that opportunity to tell my grandma just how much she and my grandpa meant to me. I actually told her I’d never find the words to accurately express how much they mean to me. I am also grateful I had that chance to tell her I love her; that is still my biggest regret, that I never told my grandpa how much I love him. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake with my grandma. I started crying in front of all 82 guests at my party, and I don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed about it one bit.
That moment, holding my grandma’s hand, telling her how grateful I was for her and my grandpa, speaking about my grandpa in present tense, knowing that she understood that I miss him just as much as she does, is a moment I will never let go.
My grandparents were married for 64 years. They were married in Venezuela when my grandma was 19 years old. My grandpa taught her everything she knows. He was by her side through five pregnancies and births, through raising eighteen grandchildren, through starvation, poverty, and a move from one continent to the next. My grandparents marriage was the embodiment of “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part”, except for the fact that my grandma still wears her wedding ring, still visits the cemetery, and still talks as though he can hear her, a year and four months after his death, so death really hasn’t done much to part them. I know for a fact my grandpa is waiting at the Heavenly Gates for my grandma, he isn’t about to go into Heaven without her. It just wouldn’t be Heaven to him without her.