My great-grandma died on my birthday this year. At least, this is how the story goes according to me. And as ominous as this sounds, my mom and I were in the car when we were stopped by a long funeral procession, all of which was followed by a freak snowstorm in March on the first day of spring. It was like the snow was trying to stop new life from springing.

Ok, so maybe I'm connecting dots where there are no dots to connect.

My great-grandma and I never had a great relationship partly because she always seemed on the verge of death. As a kid I had my grandma who seemed terribly old; then there was my great-grandma, who was older, frail, fragile, and surrounded by myths and legends. For some reason she never told me stories of herself directly, everything was reiterated by my bachelor uncles who poked fun at me.

One of which is that: "Did you know that she use to drink her pee? That's how she stays so healthy. Go ask her what it tastes like!"

Which scarred me for the rest of my life and caused me to be extremely suspicious of her every time she went to the bathroom.

Other stories that surrounded her was her vegetarianism and Buddhism. I don't know how, and I never asked, but she was always a Buddhist while the rest of my family is Christian. I've never seen her go to the temple but she use to sit and pray for hours and hours, her thumbs moving rhythmically through her prayer beads. "A prayer for Ann Ann, a prayer for May-Ann, for Margaret and Andrew."

My mom is affected by her death more than I probably realize. The older she gets the more family oriented she becomes, which in my opinion is too late because we're all past the age of needing motherly affection. At least I am.

The other day my mom actually went in my room and cleaned it. She has never, ever in my entire life done this, which is odd because I know normal mothers clean up their kids room all the time. It was such a bizarre phenomenon that I went through all my drawers going, "Huh, so that's where she put that, I wonder why."

It's like we've reversed roles. I use to go in her room, poke through her cosmetics, clothes, and jewelry wondering how to use these things and why women had to be so complicated. Now she's the one poking through my stuff, wondering how to use it. She asks, "Ann, how do you use your ipad? What about your hair straightener? Can I have your blush and lipstick - what about your curling iron?"

I was reflecting on all this tonight because we just had dinner with my grandparents. My grandparents, especially my grandma, are the cutest people I know and I don't think I love anyone more than I love her, party because she's human, imperfect, proud, humble, and loves me back. I guess because of my great-grandma's death my mom finally realized that maybe she should love my grandma back as well.

Today my mom said, "Ann, you should love your grandparents."

I couldn't even answer her, it was like she doesn't know me.

To my lack of reply she says, "And you should spend more time with them. They won't be around for long, you know. Cherish every moment with them. I'm going to visit them because I love them - oh and I love you too!"

All of this, I should probably say, was done through text.

I guess this entire post won't make sense without really understanding the dynamics between my mom and grandma, which simply put is that they have a hard time tolerating and standing each other. Eerily enough they look 100% alike, my mom is the younger version of my grandma; it's like a weird time warp of you hating your past self and hating your future self all at once. So for my mom to say, "I love my mom" is just as weird as having her clean my room.

And where is Annabelle? My sister seems to have floated off to lala land. While Matthew and I are sharing a bowl of corn beef she's in her room chatting away with Vinay. Not that I resent their engagement or resent the fact that her head seems to be stuck in exam and Vinay land, it's just that I hope she realizes how much she's changing everything for everyone. Which she probably doesn't. I don't think I would ever have the guts to do what she's doing - not the get married and engaged part - the part where she breaks down and builds up and tears apart our family dynamics. A lot of people say that Annabelle seems to be the more mature one, but what I think they're missing to see is that that's not the case at all. As shocking as this sounds, I'm probably more independent than Annabelle. The real difference is that she's not afraid to adjust life to fit her needs while I'm too calculated with my movements.