The Last Glance

 Memory is a fragile, fragmented thing. I was just a child when my grandmother passed away-too young to understand the finality of the moment, yet I remember it as if it were yesterday.

The house was filled with people and a heavy, hushed energy. While everyone else was gathered around my grandmother, I was on the floor, simply crawling. Suddenly, I felt an inexplicable urge to be near her.

I crawled to the side of her bed, reached up, and grabbed the frame to pull myself toward her. As I tried to stand, our eyes met. I didn't know then that I was witnessing her final breaths or sharing a silent goodbye. I only knew that I needed to be close to her.

Looking back, I find comfort in that memory.It was a moment of pure, raw connection , a final glance between a grandmother and a child, observing the gap between beginnings and endings.

Some things don't need to be understood or to be felt. And I think, is how love stays with us long after the people themselves are gone.