As many of you may know, my grandma passed away yesterday morning. I’ve been so fortunate in the last 5 years to have lived within driving distance of her home in Vancouver. When she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, my husband and I spent 2 weekends with her: the 1st weekend at her apartment before her condition worsened, and the 2nd weekend at the hospice. Despite being monosyllabic from the medicine, she still had an awareness about her. (She actually uttered, “Nice!” and “Beautiful” when I showed her these drawings of her.)The strong, independent woman I loved was still present.

Whenever I look at an old drawing I drew, it all comes flooding back to me – the location, the smells, the sounds. It’s psychosomatic, which is exactly why I wanted to draw my grandmother. At the time, I also brought a DSLR camera with all the fancy lenses, but she was sick: I know that was all the camera will reflect.

Drawing aids you in remembering. And really, that was all I wanted: to remember. Her tufts of hair going every which way, matching her independence. (And when did she stop dying her hair?) The slight roundness of her nose. The softness in her profile. The eyes that my aunts inherited. The curves of her arms that spent many years wrapping around family and friends alike. Her knobbed fingers that were wracked with arthritis yet she continued to play piano in defiance. She always looked so comfortable and relaxed in her clothes. 

I really loved that slouch.

She looked so peaceful on her couch in her apartment, sleeping as her television went on about the afterlife, the rosary, the lives of saints. While my whole family’s world is turned upside down and everyone is scrambling in wake of the big one, the quake, here she was at ground zero, not frantic, not running away…but sitting, sleeping here waiting to be tapped on the shoulder by a gentle, familiar, friend.

May you have continued peace in the life afterwards. I love you and will forever miss you, Lola.