Poetry That Comes From a Place of Love

To My Grandmother:

You taught me how to do most things in life. Cook, clean, basic things for a Filipino.

You helped me through some of the darkest times in my life. Through my episode, my 13 year old angsty phase, our Philippines trip when I was in grade 10..

You taught me love through food. Your Sinigang, meatballs and rice, and your chicken adobo your make.

Whenever you were mad you would always cook me something. Whenever you wanted to apologize, you would cook for me. I feel like maybe you helped me become the chef I am today. And of course you gave my love of food.

You helped me grow. We were so close when I was younger. I remember being at your house for dinners or when I lost my first tooth! You helped me grow into the strong being I am today.

As for your faith, we didn't tend to talk about it often. We do now but I know you're still upset with me. I know you don't love the fact that I'm gay or that I don't go to church on Sundays, but I know you're just looking out for me. If you weren't you'd be fine with your god sending me straight to hell.

But you aren't. You want to share your faith with me so that we both get in.

You called me one day, told me you had been looking up symptoms of Bipolar Disorder. Said that maybe the reason I had gotten so fat is because I had gotten lazy. You were right.

You were there at the height of my manic breakdown. And you were there at the end as well. You stood by me whilst I was crying and screaming and laughing and being all over a mess.

You brought me a bag for the night in case they kept me in the emergency room. It was a toothbrush, toothpaste, my charger and a towel. You've always looked out for me grandma.

And you always will. Even when the day comes and you and God are smiling down at me.