Sometimes the way you view life is what determines your happiness. There is always a good way to look at each situation, and Ceci had to face the death of her loved grandmother to realize this. As her grandmother had always been like a second mother to Ceci, her death hit her hard. Experience Ceci’s whole point of view shift, as she goes through highs and lows dealing with her grandmother’s death. Memories of her being the only thing that is holding Ceci together, will she be able to get over this tragic death? And if she doesn’t, how will she deal with the grief?

Perspective Shift
Watching tv after eating was my everyday routine. Lying in the sofa, I heard a car beep that I immediately recognized it as my grandma’s. Even though nobody had told me she would come, she would always pick me up. She was used to doing this. “Where do you want to go today?” she would ask me, cigarette in hand. Her snow-white hair, with just a few chunks of grey, was always pulled back with gel. My usual answer to this question was ice cream, as I loved to go to a little shop near her house. It was our thing, going into the shop, me ordering a vanilla popsicle covered in chocolate and colorful sprinkles, while she ordered her strawberry snow cone. After we sat in the tables and ate our ice cream, I always went to play in the slides. I ran outside, expecting to see her bright smile behind her rusty brown car window. Opening the door, I peeked outside when I realized there was no car. It suddenly hit me. Not only there was no car at this very moment, but there would never be a car. My grandma’s death had come as unexpected as her visits, and my reaction to this was as expected, devastation.
Having to strain my eyes to see was not something I was used to do. My eyes were the size of tennis balls, as all I had done that morning was cry. My back crouched; I sat still, undisturbed by the noise around me. I wished there was a way to stop feeling this way, as if there was something missing in me that couldn’t, wouldn’t be filled again. As people greeted each other and said their condolences around me, I sat and thought of the day I started feeling this way.
“The cookies are now out of the oven!” hollered my best friend from the kitchen. I had gone out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom, and I was just walking back, pushing the swing door. We were making cookies to earn money for a milk drive in school. As I walked in the kitchen, I thought of my grandmother, and how much she would’ve liked to buy me cookies. She had always been into things like this.  I arrived to the kitchen and saw my friend taking the cookies out of the oven, her jet black hair slithering down her back like snakes while she turned to place the tray on the table. She had always been the type of person who was active, always doing something. I admired her big heart that inspired her to help every time there was a chance. We decided to sell them around the neighborhood, and when we came back, we ate the leftovers. As we were in the middle of discussing who would have the last cookie, the phone rang. My friend picked up the phone, laughing because she had stolen the cookie. In a matter of moments, her face fell, and I knew something was wrong.
“It’s for you” she said, stammering at first. The uncertainty of my voice made me decide not to ask who was calling me. I took the phone from her hands, my grip tightening at it’s contact with my ear. Andrea’s stare lay on me as she waited for a reaction from me. Her turquoise green eyes grew as time passed, and her mouth was pressed the way it always was when she was nervous.
“Something has happened,” it was my mom. I recognized her voice at once, but something was off. “It’s your grandmother, she just had a heart attack.” The tone in her voice was what hit me the hardest, full of pain and agony. Tears just began coming, without giving me the time to even acknowledge them.  The feeling of someone hitting me right across the face overcame me, vulnerable and taken aback. My mom heard me quietly weeping through the line, and she took it as a sign to keep on explaining what would happen.
“I will arrive at Andrea’s house in about 5 minutes.”
I managed to get out a few audible words that my mom understood as “okay”. As I hung up the phone, I looked up at Andrea and hugged her goodbye. I hear the doorbell and ran to hug my mom.
The drive to my grandmother’s was a long one. We exchanged only a few words, our minds somewhere else, thinking about her. I took a few stares from my mother while she wasn’t looking. My heart broke every time I saw her teary eyes and heard her muffled whimpers.  It was hard to believe I would never see my grandmother again. I tried to remember the last time I saw her, but I had too many memories to sort through. I arrived to my grandmother’s house where my whole family was. I entered the living room where they were all seated and embraced each of them in a tight hug. I looked around and realized how much I would miss my grandmother here with the rest of us, her presence being what lifts the mood of the house everyday.
“Her body is in her room” My aunt whispered to my mother and I, making me come back to reality. “They told us it was a few minutes until they took it for cremation.”
I exchanged a glance with my mom, as we were both scared to go. I knew that if I saw her lying there, lifeless, all this would be real. I will finally accept that she was gone, but I didn’t want to. I was not ready. I walked towards her room, ignoring my feelings of distress. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door of her bedroom and saw her lying there. Her face seemed so at peace that I decided to like this as the memory I will remember as my last.
“Can you believe it has been a year?” My mom and I were in my grandparent’s house, getting prepared before the party.
My grandmother used to organize an annual party in the winter, where she asked the guests to bring blankets. These blankets were for the people in need around Monterrey. Even though this was a weird tradition, the guests she invited were mostly the same every year. At this event she usually collected about 1,700 blankets, and because the guests were familiar to it we collected them as usual. We decided to organize this party to keep on with the tradition. The guest list would be similar to the past guest list, and we were waiting for everyone to arrive. This celebration usually consisted of musicians playing, food being served and exchanged conversation, but this day it would be different. Because my grandmother had very close friends who were priests, they asked my mom if they could talk about her in the beginning. Then, my mom and aunt would also share their memories. Even though it will feel different to change the usual tradition of this party, we knew that change was sometimes good, and necessary. We decided that we could have this party filled with beautiful words about her, to fill up her absence. We were all proud of ourselves, as we knew she would be proud of us too. I also knew that somewhere, she was watching us, her smile beaming which I remembered perfectly.
As I look back at the memories I shared with my grandmother, I realize that not only she impacted greatly on my life, but also changed my point of view towards it. She helped me understand religion, as well as how to act upon it. Her death at first was hard on me, but after a while I realized there was no point to be angry about it, so I might as well embrace it. I embody her lessons, her impact on me, her change in my way of thinking. Not only would I not be the same if it wasn’t for all of this, but I would not have changed for the good, for the wiser, for the better.