Fate is for the Weak

"Let me do it," my grandmother demands. She pushes my mother away with a swat of a hand. Slowly, she pulls herself out of the chair and hobbles to the kitchen, her feet dragging in protest. Each step is unsteady, her hand reaching for the support of furniture to carry her along. I offer to help, only to get firmly denied.

The sink turns on with a splash and she's off to work, hunching over a pile of dirty dishes. One by one, she builds a tower of sparkling clean plates.

"What else can I do," my grandmother asks when she's done putting away the last spoon. 

"Why can't you just sit down," my mother tries again. "You never stop."

My grandmother didn't seem to hear. "Take out the ironing board, I'll iron," she declares. My mother sighs.

This goes on all day until there are no more chores left. If she's done before eight, she reads before putting on the television. Then the next day she will ask again- "how can I help?" and "what can I do?"

I never knew my grandmother to ever take it slow. I never knew her to do anything outside of her own will. Not even when illness told her otherwise. Time and time again the world seemed to have it out for her. Divorce, cancer, broken bones, fractures, diabetes, stroke, long term radiation side effects. She has been through more in the last 30 years than many a person in their lifetime. She is a women held together by screws and her heart a machine that pumps on sheer willpower. Every day presents a new challenge, but she challenges it right back with each sure, yet unsteady step she takes.

At a time of my life so uncertain as I make plans for my future, my grandmother reminds me of my inner strength. She reminds me that no matter how much I ache from the wounds that the world has inflicted, I am the one that pushes through the pain. I am the one who has the power to bandage my wounds and keep going. Even though I'll likely fall again, and again, I get to decide how I rise from the fall.

My grandmother reminds me that fate is for those that give up. They will be carried along to wherever life takes them, for better or for worse. If I want a life of my own choosing, I must fight for it. It is a daily battle between the world, society, your own body and your own mind. And the secret to victory is keep fighting, even when your own body wants you to stop.