Besides being my sister's birthday, it is also the 15 year anniversary of my paternal grandmother's passing.
My grandmother came home from the hospital to our house to spend her last days with us. She was sick with lung cancer.
That year, March 29 was also Good Friday so, it's kind of like we have two anniversaries to remember.
There are a lot of things that stand out in my mind about that time but perhaps the one thing most embedded in my mind was that it was the first (and the last) time I ever saw my father cry. I remember him getting teary eyed at his sisters wake/funeral a few years later, but not actually crying.
It's kind of a weird thing to see your father cry. I remember it so vividly too, and it was actually before she came home that it happened.
For some reason, it was just him and I home (I think it was a school day and being 14 at the time, I got out earlier than my younger sisters). He was home early from work and the phone rang. He answered it and I could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't good. He got of the phone and I asked what was wrong. He put his hands over his face and broke down saying, "Ma might die."
I don't think I will ever forget that moment for as long as I live, and it brings tears to my eyes right now, just remembering it.
Anyway, I still think of Ma often. Oddly, whenever I pray (which admittedly isn't often) I think of her and wonder if she is somehow looking down on me. I wonder if she's proud of me and how my life has turned out.