As I opened each door, it was as if I was sliding backward, the sound of those doors took my mind back to who Mama Maasi (My Grandma) was, how she treated us as her grandchildren, and that faithful day she finished her duty on earth.
It's been over ten years since I lost my grandma, and gradually, memories about her went off my mind, tho some things will always remind us of her.
She was 130 years old when she died, but she was healthy and very strong, she continued to make her food herself because she never liked to stress anyone, she was a very clean woman and a woman of wisdom and decernment.
Me, my mom and my siblings decided to visit her house and at least clean everywhere and also check in the fruit trees that she owned before she died.
My grandma's house is not too far from our house, so we took the track she always takes then whenever she wants to visit us, as we walked on that part It took my mind back to how Grandma would cook her delicious dishes, put them in a basket carry them along as she's coming to visit us through that track, I even remembered the day I was going to visit her and I meet her sitting down on the roadside having some rest, I had to stop, sit down and we started gisting.
When she got energy we continued the journey to our house because she insisted that she wanted to get to our house and see my father.
As we got to her backyard, I remembered how she would just come and sit under the orange tree there so that people would not steal from it; when you ask her, "Grandma, how long will you guide this orange?" She will reply, "As long as my children enjoy it, a total stranger can not finish it when my children want it."
As we got closer to her door, I couldn't control my tears anymore, everywhere was so dusty and unkept, I told my siblings, "This environment is also missing Mama Maasi." They said, "Yes, of course." We all started crying.
My mom said to us "This is not why I brought you guys here, we came here to work not crying so you guys should stop"
"Adaku open the doors and get to work," she told me
As I opened those doors, I was just sliding backward, I remember how Grandma would tell you not to open the door and leave it open because there was dust, and she didn't want the room to get dusty.
I went to Grandma's room, my mind went back to how she would arrange her clothes and shoes very well, even when she was 100 she would always have her bath twice a day and cream her body very well, when I became a teenager she would always call me and tell me the importance of personal hygiene, she was always on my neck telling me that I should behave like a young lady, she taught me that my dressing would determine how I would be addressed.
At some point as she gets more older she doesn't trust anyone again even my mom, she will always want to go to the market herself and get what she wants, she will take hours to walk to the market and also take hours to walk back home.
Moving to Grandma's kitchen was another touching story, Grandma's pots were pots from the early 1930's she inherited some of them from her mother, when My mother wanted to get her new set of pots, Grandma refused, she said the modern pots are the reason why we don't cook delicious meals, she will always wash her old pots and plate, keep them outside to dry off the water then pack them in her local plate rack.
Everything we did in that house that day was just making us remember everything about our grandma. We didn't get to see our grandpa, but our grandma took good care of us.
The day she died, she made a delicious meal, had her bath, and went to bed, and we thought she was sleeping as usual, it was a painful experience despite the fact that she's old, but her conduct, love, and care were not old at all.
After cleaning up Grandma's house, we locked everywhere, got some fresh fruits and vegetables, and went back home, all through that day, we kept on discussing about her, and all she did for us when she was alive.
She's dead, but memories of her life.
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Lovely story. Beautifully written.
A thoughtful reminiscent piece @beauty197. It is clear that your grandma meant a lot to you. You show us a fiercely independent lady who aged gracefully, loved fully, cooked up a storm, and prided herself on keeping a beautiful, and organised home. Your piece would have benefited from an edit. You run one idea into the next, using commas where period would be more appropriate. In The Ink Well we expect our writers to submit good quality stories. If editing is lacking, curation will be lower than it could have been. Thank you for sharing your story in The Ink Well community.
Thank you for the correction @theinkwell
Grandma fought a good fight while she was here, may her soul rest in peace.
Memories of the people we love never die. They stay with us almost forever