I was two years old, my eyes filled with determination as I hobbled on a single foot like a flamingo, keeping all of my attention focused on the stone tiles below me. As I struggled to leap to the next stone and switch feet without toppling over, I heard a voice as sweet as honey call out to me, “Madeline!” I felt a gentle, warm hand entangle with mine, I looked up only to see a smile just as warm. My Yia Yia.

 My Yia Yia and I had a very special bond. So special that every time my parents would even hint that we were visiting her and my Papou’s house up in Cleveland, my whole entire body would receive this sudden wave of excitement that made me bounce off the walls, and want to leave right then and there. My Papou and Yia Yia’s house was always party central, whether it was just a few of our close family members or the entirety of the cul de sac, the house was always filled with people. Although seeing all of my friends in Cleveland was fun, I enjoyed when it was just our family the most. One moment I would be in the kitchen, my Yia Yia twirling me around the music, and the next I would be curled up with her in layers of blankets, immersed in the story of Petite Rouge as she read to her little redhead. “Back in the swamp where that Spanish moss grow. I heard me a story from long time ago…”  Before she could even finish the story I would always doze off, snuggled into her arms. She was my Yia Yia and I was her Madeline. 

 I remember, I was five years old when I learned that my Yia Yia had been diagnosed with cancer that would eventually take her from this world. The moment my mom broke the news to me and explained what it meant, I felt a sudden tsunami of emotions and thoughts cascade over me. Fear for what awaited in the future, anger at the universe for giving her this awful disease. Most of all I felt sadness, knowing that our time together was significantly reduced. I had so many questions, but there was one thing that I knew, Yia Yia was very very sick. As I laid in bed later that night, new emotions and questions swirled around my head. Why did heaven need her when we all needed her so much? I squinted my eyes shut, hoping that this was all somehow a terrible nightmare that my brain constructed. However, as I lay there curled in a ball, pinching my arm as hard as I could, my sheets blanketing me in an overwhelming heat that still couldn’t stop my shaking, I knew that all of this was real. That the worst was yet to come. I eventually fell asleep, drowning in my tears, thoughts, and feelings. 

Seeing her go through chemotherapy was hard. Watching her short blond hair turn a thin silvery grey and fall out. Witnessing her becoming paler and thinner ever so slowly diminishing, like a leaf waiting to blow away in the fall.  Throughout the two years she was going through treatment most of our time was spent up north in Cleveland, it practically became our second home. We did have to go back to Cincinnati every now and then so we wouldn’t get too behind in schooling, but even then the work piled and piled up. The deluge of assignments was overwhelming for me and my mom sometimes as she helped me with my schoolwork, but right now I knew that staying with Yia Yia was more important. As Yia Yia endured her treatment my mom didn’t leave her bedside even once. She was superglued to my Yia Yia’s side. My mom would even stay in Cleveland with me and my siblings while my dad went home to Cincinnati for work. I remember she even missed one of my birthday parties to care for Yia Yia, somehow finding the strength to care for us and her dying mother at the same time. As the days slipped by, I made sure to cherish every moment that Yia Yia and I had together, making our last months with each other some of the best that we have ever experienced. I just wished that the time we had left to be happy together wasn’t so limited. 

Cleveland was blanketed in snow when I lost my Yia Yia. I was seven years old. My cousins and I left to go see a movie. I put on my puffy marshmallow jacket and slipped into my fluffy boots. I remember giving my Yia Yia a kiss goodbye before marching outside and feeling the cold air bite my face.  I clambered into the black Jeep and immediately began chattering with my cousin, exchanging absurd guesses as to how the movie would come to a close. 

“I heard this movie was funny. Do you think the squirrels are gonna explode something?” 

“Are you insane? They’re squirrels! I don't even think they could hold explosives if they tried, they don't have any thumbs.”

After the movie had ended I grabbed my cousin's hand and skipped across the parking lot, the unmistakable crunch of snow following our footsteps. I shook off the snowflakes that were scattered in my hair and climbed back into the car and reclaimed my backseat spot before continuing to prattle my cousin's ear off. It seemed like a millisecond had passed before the car was parked in the stone driveway of the house. “We’ll see you guys later tonight!” My uncle called from the driver's seat. I gave him a thumbs up and climbed out of the car. I waved goodbye to my cousins before trudging up to the porch and stomping on the ground, trying my best to get the relentlessly cold snow off of my boots. I opened the door, kicked my boots off, and let the couch cushions consume me. “Today was a good day!” 

I layed there for a while, staring at the white textured ceiling, before I heard my dad's booming voice ricochet off the walls and down the stairs, “Madeline! Can you come up here? We need to talk to you!” I hop off the couch, skip up the stairs, and jump onto my parents bed. I position myself at the edge criss-cross-applesauce and move my gaze to my parents faces only to notice that they are not smiling. Instead there is a look of utter devastation in their eyes, my mom's eyes were puffy and red and her eyes were glazed over like glass. A million questions were spinning through my head like an out of control carousel, Am I in trouble? Why are they so sad? WHAT HAPPENED? silence danced in the tense air between us before it was shattered by mom's voice. 

“You know that Yia Yia has been very sick.” I nod in response, my mom lets out a shaky breath and I can tell that she’s trying not to cry. “...well honey,” her voice cracks “Yia Yia passed away.” I sat there, taking a moment to compute the words that she had just uttered, and even longer to process those words, beginning to feel that vile feeling seep into my chest. Dread. The air around me began feeling heavy, my shoulders felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. I could feel my eyes become engulfed by a hot stinging feeling, my chest tightened, and my breathing quickened it’s pace. “What?” was the only word I could manage to utter off my dry tongue before I was bolting down the hall, the strong feeling of denial struggling to maintain its grip on my ankles before vanishing completely as I stood at my Yia Yia’s bedside. Sharp tears pricked at the corner of my eyes and streamed down my face as my gaze fell upon her, she looked so peaceful. I wrapped my arms around her. Her snow-like skin combined with her skeletal features made her look like a porcelain doll, as if at the softest touch she would shatter in my arms. I sat there and cried for what felt like hours, the burning tears fell down my face and singed my t-shirt. As I buried my face into my Yia Yia, one sentence echoed through my head, She's gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. I felt my mom's gentle hand rubbing my back. she sucked in a breath, “She loved you so, so, so,  much, and she’ll always be watching over us as an angel in heaven.” As I sat there all I could do was hope for a miracle, and pray that her eyes would open one more time. 

As life went on and as the dust settled after her passing, there were several moments that helped me understand exactly what I had learned through my Yia Yia's passing and how my mother cared for her while somehow continuing to be a rock for her kids. I encountered cancer two more times since my Yia Yia passed. With my uncle, Big Bad John, and more recently with my Uncle Jim who is still continuing to fight his battle. Both of these experiences helped me discover a strength that I previously didn't know that I had. While excruciatingly difficult to witness my close loved ones endure the pain and suffering that this disease brings, I’m finally starting to truly understand the gift that both my Yia Yia and mom gave me: compassion,strength, and resilience. I have developed the compassion to understand others’ pain and its impact on those around them, the strength to endure, and the resilience to still see joy in the world even if there seems to be none. I will always cherish the time I had with my Yia Yia, and appreciate the memories. But a lasting legacy resides in what I have learned from her and from how my mom cared for her.  Now more than ever I understand what Ian Maclaren truly meant when he said,  “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”