I stared at her little face as she approached me. Her eyes were way too big for her face and the rosiness of her cheeks appeared unnatural. She was happy to see grandma and I was happy to see her.
Anne would only come visit me twice a year with her mother, they had a very busy life outside of mine. I lived way too far for their taste and I also had my old-lady commitments.
My usual schedule was to volunteer at the zoo, this is of course because I felt bad for the poor animals and I wanted to make their reclusion as good as possible. My favourite animal was a snake which I called Jon, it was a feisty little snake which always wanted some rats to devour.
My granddaughter finally gave me a hug and I realised she had very sticky hands. She said sorry as she released me, and she admitted she had eaten honey from my kitchen, and now that was proof of her sin.
I laugheted it off and invited her to sit by me, she was now seven and she knew how to open jars, thing that I could barely do thanks to my arthitis.
-Grandma, who is the man in that picture?- she asked, it was a picture of my long dead husband. I looked at it without sadness, and I admired her curiosity.
I remembered his last words to me, “don’t take my death with sadness, it’s the last thing I want, I want you to live your life the fullest, even without me.” And I followed his wish, I married again and even though I still cried some times, I always had in mind what I had learnt from him.
His positiveness and his big heart.
-His name was Léo and he was my first love, he is now in heaven.- For a child to understand death was hard and I didn’t want to get into details, I didn’t know how to approach it but she just looked at him with a sad face, and soon took his portrait and brought it to me.
-Can you tell me about him?
-I can tell you the entire story if you want.- I said, she looked at me with a big smile and she said a big yes. This was the kind of story that someone would never forget and I knew she would probably take it with her forever.
I started.
-I met him the first time I went to New York, I was young, much younger than now, probably around fourteen years old, almost fifteen. I went there to study English, I had convinced my parents to send me off and to allow me to be independent.
I met him there, just in the cafeteria, he was handsome and he had the greenest eyes I had ever seen.
I talked to him and I learnt his name: Léo, he came from France and he was three years older than me.
Soon Léo and I became friends, we had in common our passion for music and books. Then I asked him if he wanted to be my summer love.
Léo smiled at me and said yes, I was joking but Léo actually fell in love with me.
We spent the summer walking through the streets of New York, I thought the city was very romantic, and the handsome Léo also thought so as we kissed in a park for the first time.
After summer we separated and I was heartbroken, I went back home and he went back to France.
Léo wrote me letters every month, they never failed, they were long, as if he was a French poet! And I felt like I was living in a fantasy world. However, life continued and I feared he and I were never going to see each other again.
Léo told me about his family, his mother a carpenter and his father a banker... he was an only child. And he sent me all the way from France a little wooden box his mother made for me.
Inside, a promise ring saying: next time I see you, I’ll marry you.
I was fifteen when that, and I couldn’t imagine myself married, but that kept me going through the years, the expectation Léo and I would be together.
A few years later he was studying politics and he wanted to become the best politician his country had, he loved people and people loved him, I realised as I saw him the first time in tv, as a campaigner.
Then, I almost died, I was in a car accident at nineteen with a couple of friends from university and I fell in a coma for at least 72 hours, by then I used to speak in long distance phone calls with Léo. We had not seen each other in more than five years and we had agreed to fall in love with other people.
When I woke up whoever, Léo was there, just by me and I almost did not recognise him, he was much older, still handsome, he took my hand and said nothing, I think that was the moment I realised Léo was not going away.
Léo found a job in the French embassy, he had just graduated from university but his father had contacts and now he lived in this country.
Although he had come to me, we started things very slowly, I didn’t know this man, and he didn’t know me. But I knew I was in love with him.
Léo was all, he made me laugh, he understood me, and we were best friends.
When I was 23 he proposed to me. I said yes, but we didn’t marry until I was 25. During that time we travelled the world, we visited Asia, we swam with dolphins and we had our romantic adventures by the Eiffel Tower.
He said then, “let’s stop waiting and marry already, I want to be your husband dear. I’m yours”.
We were happy, the happiest people can be, we had a son, yes, that’s your mom’s uncle Tommy, and two years later Léo was ill.
He kept going to work and kept a very active life with me and Tommy but his bones failed him, he was young still and I was but doctors didn’t know how to cure him.
Three months later his health deteriorated and that’s when we moved to France, he wanted to spend his last moments with his parents.
He never demonstrated fear or sadness, he was always happy and when he went to heaven, he had a big smile.
He told me never to be sad and to live my life
the fullest. He... -
I looked at my granddaughter and I realised she was crying quietly. I brushed away her tears.
-Don’t cry, my love. Léo takes care of us from heaven and he sent to us your grandfather...why don’t you go to the backyard and help him with the flowers?- Anne stood up and said “yes grandma” she walked away sobbing and I put Léo’s portrait back to its spot as I remembered us walking by the Statue of Liberty in a sunny day, telling to each other every aspect of our life.
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