Everything in the house was left the way it was when she used to live there. A bright colored kitchen, figurines lining cabinets, and desert sun through windows brought forward sadness. She thought back to the woman who used to bring life to the house.
“Mi reina!” her grandma greeted with a hug.
Her abuelita always had a way of making her feel special. Maybe it was because she called her a queen, or maybe it was because everything Alice had done made her grandma proud. They would sit and talk about their activities, and everything Alice did impressed her abuela.
“He tries his hardest, your father,” her abuelita said when conversation died and she saw the sadness in Alice’s eyes.
“I know” she replied, trying her hardest to sound honest but her abuelita was wise and saw straight through her.
“Listen,” she said in her heavy accent, “ I came to America to give your father a better life, but I wasn’t the greatest parent but he didn’t understand. Now its your father’s turn to try to give you a better life by working to pay for this house and your education. And if that means not seeing you everyday then, oh well.” Upon those words, she would get up and serve food. “Remember that when you have kids of your own.”
Everyday there was similar conversation with the addition of stories of her abuela’s past. That was eleven years ago. Granted, Alice knew her abuelita was old, but she expected her to be there forever. Unfortunately, that was not true. Nine years ago her abuela had developed Alzheimer's, slowly forgetting everything.
“Thats funny…” her her abuelita gazed emptily mid conversation.
“Que paso?” Alice jumped.
“Wha.. whats your name again?” she asked meekly. Alice was scared, for that was the third time she had asked for her name, and that’s when she knew something was wrong. Alice had struggled with her grandma the next morning, trying to get her to go to the doctor.
“I’m fine! there’s nothing wrong! I don’t know why we’re here!” she protested. Just like abuelita, too proud to admit anything, recalled Alice, eyes beginning to water.
It was then that they learned her diagnosis. Once her condition was critical, she was put into a nursing home which devastated Alice, who, still being a minor had to leave to live with her dad, traveling from job to job. He still owned the house, but it was only used when they were in town. Those were the best and worst times. Alice had a love hate relationship with the idea that she could see her abuelita but only be remembered for minutes at a time, if at all.
“Quien es?” she asked in a hesitant voice as Alice stepped into her abuelita’s room after knocking.
“Soy yo,” she paused looking to see if she recalled, but was met with a blank stare. “I’m a relative of yours.”
“Are you Rosa’s daughter? I heard you were traveling after high school. I didn’t know you would come to Texas!” Her abuelita exclaimed febblely. Alice’s heart dropped. Rosa’s daughter was forty-three now.
“Yes, yeah thats me,” she lied.
“You should have told me you were coming earlier. I could have made… made… who are you?”
“Oh, nobody. I just came to deliver these flowers.”
Feeling alone, Alice left for the funeral with her father, wishing she was the one with Alzheimer’s so that she wouldn’t be tortured by these memories. Then she realized, memories were gift from her abuela, so that Alice could appreciate and understand everything in its fullness.
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