Closure Cafe Short Stories: Grandma

There are times during summer when I fall asleep on my hammock. I fall asleep so deeply that when the breeze wakes me up, I feel like I'm eight years old again, sleeping in my grandmother's bed. The breeze on my face brings back memories of the morning Texas breeze that used to blow in through her window. Her lace curtains elegantly waltzing with the morning air.

I'm jolted back to reality when I remember that my grandmother passed away years ago. This realization makes me sad, but not as intensely as other times when I think of her. . There is a mournful happiness that takes over your life after catastrophic events occur, like losing someone you loved dearly. They say time heals all wounds, it doesn't, I don't think there is anything that can heal regret. I cling to our memories, reliving them in my head, filling myself with an insatiable longing that can never be satisfied. I want another moment with my grandmother, so I can tell her everything I never said. As I feel the gentle summer breeze on my face, I close my eyes and unintentionally start to dream. "

The morning is cool and crisp, with a light breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. As the sun begins to warm the earth, the ground softens, releasing a rich aroma of damp soil and new growth. The air is filled with the sweet scent of budding flowers and trees, signs of new life emerging after a long winter's sleep. The world is coming back to life, with birds chirping and squirrels scampering through the trees. I never look at Spring as the end of winter but as the beginning of hope for what the year may bring. I grab my poetry notebook and my bag of favorite writing utensils throw them in my backpack and head for the coffee shop.

I opened the door of the coffee shop and realized that I got htere so fast I couldn't recall the walk. Just as I begin to ponder this a girl named Taylor takes my order. She looks really familiar, like someone from my past but I can't put my finger on it. In the process of trying to figure out why she looks familiar, I don't register until I'm getting ready to leave, that she knew my name when she greeted me.

With a caramel latte in hand and a bagel with extra shmear. My plan is to start writing poems about spring, at my favorite table near the bookshelf. However to my disappointment, I find that it is already taken by a woman with long black and whtie curly hair. Dejected, I consider what other table would be great for writing. Just as I'm about to sit down at a table by the window near the door the scent of jasmine and baby powder triggers an overwhelming emotional response deep within my soul, I turn to look at the woman and it's her. She smiles and I buckle at the sound of her voice "Hi Mija".

I always imagined what I would do if I got another moment with my grandmother. I would run to embrace her, an endless stream of tears running down my face, her arms around me as I sob into her shoulder. I would inhale her perfume the way someone on the verge of drowning gasps for air when their face breaks the surface of the water they were so desperately trying to get out of. All the things I never said would start pouring out of me like water breaking through a damn whose strength gave way to the crack deep within.

But in the moment of truth, I'm frozen, unable to believe the scene I'm in. I take a few steps towards her, slowly, I want to hug her, to put my hand on her cheek, but I am cautiously aware that doing so could wake me from my dream. She nods acknowledging my thoughts as truth. Suddenly empty handed I take a seat across from my grandmother. All the words I want to say try to come out at once getting stuck in the middle of my throat in a call that feels like burning hot razor blades.

I hear the bell of the coffee shop door and I look up to see my Uncle walking in. He heads over to the table by the window near the door. He sees me and smiles, he always had a warm smile. Sometimes when my son smiles I see my Uncle. He waves and says "Hi Mija". He reminds me so much of my dad. He looks at my grandmother smiles and nods, and then turns to look out the window. I can tell he is waiting for someone. I make a mental note to walk over and say Thanks before I leave.

I focus my gaze back on my grandmother, she is smiling, her eyes full of patience. I take a deep breath as tears start streaming down my face. "I miss you" I tell her, my voice cracking at every word. "I never got to tell you......"*vulnerability redacted*"I wake up every morning on my birthday, angry, and sad that another year will pass without your voice. I never knew how much I would miss you singing happy birthday to me on the phone."

She smiles and starts to sing "Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You. Happy Birthday Dear Mija, Happy birthday to you" I laugh and I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders.A sense of calm washes over me. I look up at the tv and woman named Teresa is talking to a reporter about a play she is directing. Suddenly the memory of her hits me. My highschool drama coach, she passed away several years ago. Taylor, the girl who took my order was a girl that went to my school. She was a couple years younger but she died in a car accident. Slowly, I come to the realization that I am in a place somewhere in between the living and the departed.

The bell of the coffee shop door chimes and in walks my cousin Eva with her daughter Lily. They are holding hands. I see my Uncle get up from his seat, I watch them staring at each other. He puts his hands in his pocket and looks down at his feet and I hear him say softly "Hi Mija". She responds "Hi Dad" and she walks towards him. I witness a long overdue embrace. They hold each other for what feels like something in between a second and an eternity, before sitting down. Lily climbs onto her Grandpa's lap, the joy on my Uncle.s face. It's a beauty I wish my cousin, my aunt and my dad could see. Just before Eva sits down I see her crouch down, I didn't notice the other little girl with her before, she looks strikingly familiar. My cousin nods then looks towards me and smiles. I smile back just as the child is sprinting towards my grandmother. She yells out "Grandma" and they embrace. The little girl looks at me and says "Hi Mom" I start to see similiarities between her face and Penny's. It's the baby I carried for a short time, the one that never made it to life. She kisses my grandmother on the cheek and sprints off. I reach out my hand and try to call out to her, but my words are frozen.

"What is this place?" I say with overwhelming emotion. My grandmother points to the coffee shop sign that I hadn't noticed before. "Closure"

"I don't want to leave you." Just then I notice the sounds coming from a radio near by. The sounds are of Noah's humming, Thomas casually swearing at his video games, and Penny whispering "I love you , mama," I don't want to leave her, but I know I have to. I turn to her and say "You were the greatest love of my life". She smiles, knowing that I had finally told her all the things I never said.. I reach for her hand and just as I'm about to set mine on top of hers, she disappears, her perfume lingering in the air.

The only people left besides me, are my Uncle, my cousin, and her daughter. I want to get up and say hi/goodbye but I am hypnotized by the scene. My Uncle is laughing at something Lily is whispering into his ear. My cousin, Eva, smiles as she watches them. I feel peace coming from all three people at their table. I know that the three of them have a lot of catching up to do and I don't want to interrupt them.I get up and walk towards the back exit. Before I leave I turn around to take one last look at the table where my grandmother and I were sitting. As I star at it's overwhelmping emptiness. I reach into my pocket and find a receipt for closure. Did I get that? Closure? Does leaving with this receipt mean I won't be able to come back? I reach into my backpack and pull out my notebook, I grab my favorite pencil and walk slowly back to the table by the bookshelf and set them down. I pull the receipt out of pocket and clutch it to my heart. As I pull it away and tuck it into my notebook I glance down at my grandmother's funeral program before closing my notebook and walking away. I know I have more to write and I know where I want to be sitting when I write it. I turn towards the door and walk out into the summer breeze.