“Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.” (Jonathan Safran Foer) 

I remember. I remember when she called. I remember hearing the phone ring exactly four times, announcing in a matter-of-fact manner “call from Grossmami”. I remember walking out of my room, downstairs, and across the kitchen to grab something to eat. I remember the chatter coming from the living room, where my mom and sister were speaking to my grandmother over the phone. I remember being irritated and not in the best of moods- not wanting to go out of my way to say a simple “hello, how are you Grossmami?”. I remember thinking I will be seeing her very soon and will have all the time in the world to mingle and tell stories. All the time in the world- as if the clock of life would never stop ticking or as if the human heart would never stop beating. I could not have been more mistaken. Within 2 weeks, 14 days, 336 hours, 20,160 minutes, 1,209,600 seconds, my grandmother’s clock took its last tick and her heart pumped for a final time. Just like that. I remember feeling my own heart swell to the size of a melon, and just like a balloon with too much helium, burst; anger, disappointment, and shame swept over me and lingered for many weeks. “Hello, how are you Grossmami?”. I remember the phone ringing, my grandmother trying to reach out to me, not realizing that it would be the last time. I remember…