Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma

I wish I could thank you one more time
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Dear Grandma,

It's been quite some time since I've seen you last.

On one hand, it feels like just yesterday that we were at your bedside, rooting you on as your body struggled to do the simple things that our bodies can do without us even thinking about it. On average, most of us take nearly 25,000 breaths a day, and generally, each breath is without conscious thought. We just do it. For you, each breath took more energy than you could afford to give.

On the other hand, it feels like it's been an eternity. I think of you every day, and I'm not just writing that because it sounds good. Some days I think about how proud you would be of how far I've come. Other days I think about how you would probably scold me for my picky eating habits, and how untidy my car is.

There's something about thinking about you that brings me much peace. Most days, I can feel you here with me, but I often wonder what it's like seeing this world from heaven. Do you enjoy it up there? Although we're far from each other in different worlds, does it bring you joy that I still feel you around?

You taught me more than I could have ever asked for. You were the single most influential person to have ever been a part of my life. There are days that I wish I could continue to learn from you. When you passed, I was at a much different place in life. As I've gotten older, I've become more receptive to the lessons that life is trying to teach me. I could learn a lot from you today, Grandma.

I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate all that you did for me. The way you gently wrapped me in your arms when my house was a battleground of harsh words. The way you never took sides, and instead, viewed every situation objectively in order to find a solution. The way you would sing me to sleep when my parents weren't home. The way you unified the entire family. You were the cement that held us all together, Grandma.

You never missed a birthday, an anniversary, graduation or any significant event. Sometimes it tears me apart knowing that you won't ever meet the man that becomes my husband. You won't be at my wedding one day. You'll never be able to meet my children, and they will never be able to learn from you the way I did. You won't see me graduate. I won't have my biggest cheerleader beside me for some of the most monumental moments of my life.

But if there's anything you taught me, it's to enjoy the simple things. Embrace the ones you love with tight hugs and wet kisses. Don't spend your time wishing things would change, and instead, make the change. Never expect things to just work out for you. Things work out for those who work hard. Remember that nothing happens by chance, and instead live each day knowing that you are shaping your future.

And above all, the number one thing you taught me was to base your life on the notion that love is the healing factor in every circumstance; that love will always be the answer; that love is the only thing you can continue to give away and never become poor by doing so. Center your life around love, and watch it transform. Thank you for this lesson.

I love you, Grandma, and I miss you.

Cover Image Credit: Jennifer VerMeulen

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To The Girl Struggling With Her Body Image

It's not about the size of your jeans, but the size of your heart, soul, and spirit.

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To the girl struggling with her body image,

You are more than the number on the scale. You are more than the number on your jeans and dresses. You are way more than the number of pounds you've gained or lost in whatever amount of time.

Weight is defined as the quantity of matter contained by a body or object. Weight does not define your self-worth, ambition or potential.

So many girls strive for validation through the various numbers associated with body image and it's really so sad seeing such beautiful, incredible women become discouraged over a few numbers that don't measure anything of true significance.

Yes, it is important to live a healthy lifestyle. Yes, it is important to take care of yourself. However, taking care of yourself includes your mental health as well. Neglecting either your mental or physical health will inflict problems on the other. It's very easy to get caught up in the idea that you're too heavy or too thin, which results in you possibly mistreating your body in some way.

Your body is your special, beautiful temple. It harbors all of your thoughts, feelings, characteristics, and ideas. Without it, you wouldn't be you. If you so wish to change it in a healthy way, then, by all means, go ahead. With that being said, don't make changes to impress or please someone else. You are the only person who is in charge of your body. No one else has the right to tell you whether or not your body is good enough. If you don't satisfy their standards, then you don't need that sort of negative influence in your life. That sort of manipulation and control is extremely unhealthy in its own regard.

Do not hold back on things you love or want to do because of how you interpret your body. You are enough. You are more than enough. You are more than your exterior. You are your inner being, your spirit. A smile and confidence are the most beautiful things you can wear.

It's not about the size of your jeans. It's about the size of your mind and heart. Embrace your body, observe and adore every curve, bone and stretch mark. Wear what makes you feel happy and comfortable in your own skin. Do your hair and makeup (or don't do either) to your heart's desire. Wear the crop top you've been eyeing up in that store window. Want a bikini body? Put a bikini on your body, simple.

So, as hard as it may seem sometimes, understand that the number on the scale doesn't measure the amount or significance of your contributions to this world. Just because that dress doesn't fit you like you had hoped doesn't mean that you're any less of a person.

Love your body, and your body will love you right back.

Cover Image Credit: Lauren Margliotti

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Kit Kat On A Rainy Day

My grandpa went missing one rainy afternoon, but what happened later is very heartwarming!

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It was a rainy afternoon in the middle of October. The road was covered in an almost invisible film of water, and mud seeped through the cracks of the sidewalk. The wind blew at a harsh and firm angle. The temperature was sharp and bitter. I was in 10th grade at the time and had just gotten back to school. I sat at my desk upstairs with my legs comfortably nuzzled against my chest. I admired the lavender fuzzy socks on my feet while very blatantly ignoring my homework and other responsibilities. I gently sipped warm apple cider, carefully making sure that it wouldn't burn my tongue whilst scrolling through my phone. This rainy afternoon in the middle of October was seemingly very normal.

I eventually picked up a pencil and reluctantly began my homework, but was very quickly distracted by the sounds of panicked yelling coming from downstairs. I quickly made my way to the scene so that I could figure out what was going on. My mom and grandma were in the kitchen crying and screaming. My grandma sounded agitated and afraid. My mom was barely able to make out coherent sentences as she scrambled to find my dad's contact in her phone. I shuddered and felt completely frozen when I was finally able to understand what was going on.

My 85-year-old grandpa who also has Alzheimer's was missing from our home. My stream of consciousness was abruptly interrupted as I heard the door leading to our garage slam shut. My mom was going to drive around our neighborhood to look for my grandpa, as he realistically could not have made it that far. I went back upstairs and sunk into my chair. My eyes were wide and I could hear my heart beating outside of my chest. I trembled and cried. These are the kinds of horrible and unfortunate stories that you read about or watch in the news. You never expect it to happen to a loved one. The gravity of the situation is heavy. It's a very obscure and different kind of pain, one that cannot be justified with words.

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. I was not aware of how much time had passed, but I do remember hearing the slow creak of the garage open. I did not get up and I did not run down the stairs. Instead, I sat there. I sat firmly in my chair, numb and completely frozen. From where I was, everything was temporarily easier. The pain of sitting at my desk was less scathing than confronting whatever was waiting downstairs. And then, all of a sudden, I heard very slow and uneven steps coming up the stairs, accompanied by heavy breathing. It was my grandpa.

There he was, standing about three feet in front of me. I examined him, head-to-toe. He was soaked and there were remnants of mud on his pants and shoes. His glasses were covered in intricate droplets of water, and his light grey hair was disheveled. But that is not what stood out to me. What made me want to cry even more was the smile on his face that was beaming with love, as his eyes met mine. He steadily walked towards me, put his hand in his pocket, and I watched his fragile hands shake as he pulled out a Kit Kat bar.

"For you!" He said with a little laugh.

- - -

My mom had found my grandpa in a Walgreens right outside our neighborhood. To this day I still don't know how he got there, and I do not care to know the exact fundamentals of how he got from point A to point B. This is a man whose life and memories have been unfairly taken from him. This is a man who can barely make out a sentence in either Hindi or English. This is a man who, to this very day, cannot remember my name or who I am. However, what this disease has failed to do is strip him of his innate kindness. His mind might be impaired but his ability to love is immortal and unbreakable.

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