A few years ago, an Angel came into my life; well, a cat named Angel. She was a cow cat, black and white, who was playful but valued her space. I loved this cat very much, I played with her frequently, probably more than she would have liked me to. Angel was one of my favorite reasons for going to my Grandmother’s, known as G-ma’s, house in New York. Every other month or so, when my family arrived at  G-ma’s house, we would all greet her and then I would run upstairs to play with Angel for the next few hours. Usually, when it was time to eat, we went out to dinner, enjoying each other’s company and the food. In early 2020, unbeknownst to me, while I was eating, there was one who was not. This time we visited, G-ma told us that something was wrong with Angel, and she was not eating properly. The next few times that we visited my grandmother, we would see her feeding Angel medicine and trying to help her eat. Although I did not see Angel as much anymore, I still worried for her and hoped that she was all right.

One day in the early summer of 2020, my mother walked into my room with a sad smile. I ask her what happened and she told me to sit down, so I sit on my bed awaiting the news. She slowly says “It's about Angel” and upon hearing this, my mind races. As I imagine every possible thing that could’ve happened to her, I try to suppress my thoughts and assume that something good happened, but given the situation, I knew what really happened. A single tear drops from my eye as my mother says that Angel passed on. This news sends me into a spiral of despair, I shed enough tears to create a river, and as I try to get myself together I accumulate a mountain of tissues to accompany my waterfall. I am not a person that likes to be seen in a vulnerable state so I quickly try to calm myself down like a sailor trying to keep calm while humongous waves clash against his ship. Eventually, I realize that there is nothing that I can do about what has happened; the tears stop but the pain does not. In the following week, I realized that although I did not have Angel anymore, I was not alone. My family and friends were there for me, and although I missed Angel, the memories of the time I spent with her would always remain with me.

I had two grandmothers, G-ma who owned Angel, and another, Grandma who lived with us in Connecticut. Grandma and I were very close: we watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune together, I made tea for her, and we played Scrabble and Crazy Eights often. After Angel died, I tried to spend more time with her and everyone else I loved. Grandma had been in and out of chemotherapy for a while but tried not to show her emotions around my family. In 2021, Grandma’s condition worsened and she was not eating or getting out of bed. One day just before summer in 2021, I was in a Zoom class while an ambulance transported my grandma out of her bed and to the hospital. I was not very worried because she had been in and out of the hospital before, but something told me that something was different this time. On July 3rd, 2021, I woke up and my mother stood before me with teary eyes, she didn’t have to say much for me to understand what had happened. 

Throughout July, I was grief-stricken and not feeling myself, and then my true emotions came out when we visited the funeral parlor. We entered the room and upon seeing my grandma for the first time in a month in this way, that river of tears immediately rushed to my eyes like a tidal wave. I sat down on a chair in utter despair before my father took me outside to the car; he tried to console me, but I did not hear a word he said. Sitting alone in my room with my thoughts the next morning was bittersweet, I thought about Angel and others that had passed away. I discovered that the same understanding of my feelings when Angel passed away, applied to me now. My grandma always hated to see me sad, and I remember her comforting me when Angel died.  I realized that to make my grandma proud, I had to keep moving forward and be there for the rest of my family, as I was not the only person who was grieving. Like my fond memories of Angel, the memories of the time I spent with my grandma remain with me to this day. Even the rough current of grief in the ocean of life will be conquered by the courageous sailor.