If I’m being completely honest, our family vacation to Mexico can best be described as bittersweet. The trip itself was perfectly relaxing, filled to the brim with sand and sun of the best variety. The resort was lovely, the beach picture perfect, the company unbeatable, and the food? Well, we’ll just skip that part (read: awful).
On our third day in paradise we received word that my grandma, who was forced to stay behind with my aunt (doctor’s orders), had taken a turn for the worst. Just three weeks before we left, we found out she had cancer. We were told we had six months, though we knew we’d be lucky to get half.
To find out your grandma wasn’t going to make it through the day while sunning by the pool is surreal. In truth, it rocked all of us to our core. My cousin who, for lack of a better word, idolized my grandmother walked down the aisle, a beautiful, picturesque, sandy aisle, with a void in all of our hearts.
I’m lucky enough to come from a massive, incredibly close, incredibly solid family. Though it broke all of our hearts that we weren’t there during my grandma’s final hours, we were all together, as one solid unit and that most definitely helped get each one of us through.
We celebrated my grandma the best way we knew how: a poolside toast, rye and coke in hand (my grandma’s drink of choice). And we take comfort knowing that she’s no longer in pain, and alongside my grandpa, the love of her life.
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