A Statue Through Time

I looked at the little statuette in my hand. It was my grandma’s. I didn’t really know her too well cause she was locked in Toronto General but she took me to the park once. I was just 5, but I remember it quite well. She took me to the park and pushed me on the swing and we had ice cream. I had my favorite, chocolate with vanilla sprinkles and she had pralines and cream. Then we sat on the park bench. She hugged me and we looked up at the clouds. After, my mom came and picked me up, but I came to nana’s house a couple of times. Her home was really nice and all, small and narrow, opening up onto a dead end street. Every single time she showed me something new, Soviet coins, Indonesian carvings, but the last visit was the most memorable.

She showed me a little soviet figurine, a blue-eyed ceramic figurine with an orange dress and all. But what really got me was the story behind it. Nana explained how this ceramic figurine came into her possession. It all started in a dreary apartment on the outskirts of Moscow. Her family wasn’t what you called well to do, but they made ends meet. She always wanted a ceramic figurine, but her family couldn’t afford it. Every single birthday she asked for one and finally on her tenth birthday she ripped the wrapping paper eagerly to discover an elegant porcelain statuette. Then, life became real tough for her.

Her dear father died, and after the funeral the two of them sold everything they had, just for the boat tickets. Her mother asked her to sell the figurine, but after those tears in Nana’s eyes she relented. They were only allowed one tiny black suitcase on the boat so they left several unsold clothes and packed the figurine. After, the two made it overseas, and settled in Toronto. And then came my mother and eventually me.

I always wanted to visit her in her home, but it was that phone call that stopped me. The hospital called my mom and told her that Nana had leukemia and survival was unlikely. We saw Nana in the hospital room. She tried all her best to smile. The figurine was sitting on the counter next to her. I wanted to talk to her, but she fell asleep. We returned a couple more times, but every time her condition worsened. On our last visit she smiled and said, “Take it, I don’t have much time left” in the sweetest voice ever. I thanked her before my mom told us to let her rest. On the way out I waived to her, only to see her eyes close one last time.

Then the hospital phoned my mom and explained our loss. There was a funeral and all, but I stayed home. I sat in my bedroom, sobbing. I took the figurine out of the box and looked at it. Her golden locks of hair, the gaze of her blue eyes. I put it upon the windowsill.

Every day, I look at it remembering the amazing times I had with her, she will always have a place in my heart.


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