Tori on Humble Voice - The best community for art, photography, music, video and writing.

There were roses that day. There were so many of them, I could hardly believe my eyes. And at that moment, when I looked up at the sky and saw the flowery petals of lost roses drift slowly down, I thought of my Grandmother, and how she must be doing in heaven. She had died earlier this century--to my family’s dismay--and brought life to the new world. Because it had said, “With the life of a dying glowing crystal, the new world shall be born.”

I guess my Grandmother was exactly that. Her name was Eri, meaning my protector; my awake one. From what I've known of her, I think that name suits her perfectly. She’s been my only family for my whole life, until recently, that is. With my Grandmother’s death, the whole Kana family and friends came together for her funeral. This wasn’t just a funeral for my Grandmother, though, even if that was the intention. It was more like a family reunion. Everyone greeted one another like a family should. You could just pick someone and cry on their shoulder, they wouldn’t mind.

This was, also, when I met my parents. I learned that my Mom had dropped me off at my Grandmother’s home near Mount Seymour in Vancouver, then left for Las Vegas with my Dad. “They never came back. I think they really like it there,” my Grandmother would say.

I now know that they got lost, and soon broke up. They went their separate ways, each thinking the other went back and got me.

I'm personally not sure whether I should’ve forgave them or not, but I did. I ended up living with my Mom and her boyfriend. Luckily it was just for a few years; I bought my own home not too long after I had moved in with them.

Everyday, when I lay down on my couch and stare at the ceiling, I think about my Grandmother. I think about how proud I am to share the same blood with the great woman who saved the human race from itself. But then an overwhelming sadness drifts through me and I start to cry, wondering why it had to be her and not someone else. I guess that answer lies with the angels.

When I was little, my Grandmother used to tell me stories of the Angelic Choirs, who are these leagues of angels who aid God. I’m not really Christian, but my Grandmother was very religious and wanted me to be, too. I guess she thought that if she told me all these stories with the angels and God in them, I’d want to be a Christian. She respected me enough to give me my own choice on what I wanted to be, that’s why she told me the stories with such vigor.

It didn’t really work, but she continued to tell me the stories. And I continued to enjoy them. Now I have my own fascination with religion, not because I’m looking for something in particular to be faithful to, but because I find the stories and tales interesting. I enjoy learning about what others believe in simply because it’s what others believe in. They must have a good reason why they choose what they have over some other religion. Truth is, they might not think it’s worthy of them.

I used to wonder where she got the stories from, they were so creative and detailed. She couldn’t have made them up on the spot, she told them so smoothly. She couldn’t have remembered them, either, most of them were so long. Even if she had remembered the story, it wouldn’t have been word for word.

I do believe there is a heaven, and I do believe there are angels and a God. But they don’t do what everyone thinks they do. Some of the Angelic Choirs go around and help God with his worldly duties, as well as his other worldly duties. And some go around and help Earth, mankind.

Some people I see on the street come up to me and say things like, “Bless you and your family. I thank you for saving mankind. Eri Kana must be an angel.” To which I reply, “Yes, she must be an angel for doing such a thing. And I thank you for your blessings. But please don’t think so highly of my family, we’re not what everyone thinks.”

I say such a thing to a stranger because it not only is the truth, but because they’d take up their extra time to come and see the granddaughter of the world’s savior. To just see and speak to me is supposedly a blessing. I’m known worldwide for my acts before my Grandmother died, and some may think that what I did was such a great sacrifice. But I don’t think too highly of it. At that moment before my Grandmother died, I thought, “Well, Camila, it’s time to be an adult. Grandma Eri, or the lives of everyone?”

Of course, I choose the lives of everyone. And Grandma Eri even told me to let go. Indeed, it was time to be an adult, it was time for me to grow up and face the world.

I now think of what would’ve happened if I hadn’t let go, if I hadn’t chosen everyone over my Grandmother. I think of the world as a dark place with evil people and demons--such as Reginald--ruling the Earth. In the end of that scenario, my Grandmother would’ve died, anyway. She couldn’t really fight, and I highly doubt she could defend herself from a demon.

And then when I delve deeper into those thoughts, I think that Reginald and I would never be where we are today. I’d miss it even if I never knew what it was, because it’s special.

I remember when I was young I asked my Grandmother why it rained. She replied, “Rainmaker is turning crows into doves.”

I’d ask her, “How, Grandma?”

“He beats his rubber hammer on his floating cloud, and suddenly more clouds come and rain down God’s tears. When the crows touch God’s tears, they instantly turn into doves.” And until I learned about the water cycle in grade four, I thought that was truly why it rained.

I had come home crying to her that she lied to me, and made kids laugh at me that day by telling me about the Rainmaker. We cuddled and she made me hot cocoa, while telling me the story of the Rainmaker and how he fits into history. At the end, I cried at his death, yet rejoiced because he had a son that continued on the ways of the Rainmaker.

I was so childish back then; I was so naïve.

Now that Grandma Eri is dead, and I can think of her happily in heaven while I lay in Reginald’s arms, I truly believe she was always something special. Something more than an average human, her doing what she did and saying the things she did. It always made me think there was another side to her that she hid from everyone. And I believe that some day, I’ll find her out. I’ll learn all her secrets and see that there really was another side to her that she hid from everyone, including me.

I hope she’s happy in heaven. I hope she’s an angel for doing what she did. It was a sacrifice, for her and for me.