Life and death.... both unexpected.....
We had a memorial at work today for one of the most prolific volunteers of where I work. He essentially spearheaded our 4th of July Parade and another event. It just reminded me of my grandparents passing away. First, my grandma and then my grandpa…
Several years ago my grandma passed away first. We visited less than 5 times because we lived a little over 3,000km away from her and my grandpa, really from all of my blood relatives. When we moved to the United States I turned 5 and we didn't really have much money not enough to travel that kind of distance on a regular basis or even once a year. So when we did visit it was for important reasons or because we hadn't visited in a long time.
I remember her smile. The times she would give me money to buy candy at the store down the street. The tortillas she made by hand that we would eat with only salt right after she made them still warm from el comal. The way she would make eggs that looked like big huge fluffy pancakes with SO much oil that now a days it would be frowned upon but tasted SO good back then you couldn't not eat them. I don't too much but I do remember some things. Good and bad.
One memory that I do remember was the second to last time we visited my grandparents. The very last day we were there my mom had asked me to shower and get ready to leave later that afternoon. Let me tell you a that showering in Mexico, especially in the town where my mom was born, consisted of heating water in pots on the stove and dumping it over yourself while standing in a huge aluminum bin washing away the soap. To a girl of 12 it didn't sound like so much fun when I could instead take what little cash I had, and by cash I mean pesos, go into the towns version of town and play on the arcade machine which is what I did.
By the time I got home my mom was freaking out yelling at me on the street as I walked to the front door about how we were going to be late. VERY angry. Not nice angry. Painful angry I remember that vividly, the anger. My grandma saved me from mom at that point. Stepped between my mom and me. She rescued me. Helped me shower by washing my hair and wiping away the tears. Telling me how my mom wasn't angry with me that she loved me, they both did. Once I was cleaned up she hugged, helped me dress and continued to calm me. That was the last time I saw her standing. One of the last memories I have of her before she had a brain hemorrhage.
The very last time we did visit it was after she the brain hemorrhage. She was being taken care of by a cousin of my mom at her home. I remember when we walked into her house made of mud bricks. My grandma laying in bed not really knowing what was happening, not really understanding. My mom walked up to the bed and smiling at her, holding back tears, letting her know she was there. Grandma looked up, smiled back and looked like she recognized her. The tears mom had been holding back running down her cheeks now. Another moment I remember vividly. This instant is something I always go back to because it was mom and daughter coming back together after so many years apart.
My mom was the one daughter that had moved so far away, taken me with her, that we couldn't visit very often. Moved to a completely different country. The one daughter that sent money to her mom and dad every month for almost 20 years until her dad, my grandpa, passed away.
What I remember from grandpa is that he was SOOOO tall. I always joked that I got my height from him…yes 5'5" is HEIGHT!
I remember one moment specifically. We only had my grandpas '86 Toyota pickup 3 seat-er, probably really a 2 seat-er, and about 6 of us wanted to go on whatever errand he was going on. The 3 adults got the cab and the 3 offspring got the back of the truck. Again, this is the town my mom grew up in so when we visited it was okay, no cop stopped us. I don't even think I saw a cop in my 2 months being there….
Anyway, the offspring got into the back and held on for dear life because my grandpa was a crazy driver. He didn't really understand that there were people with no way of protecting themselves in the back of his truck bouncing up and down. Wind literally blowing through our hair. To this day its is because of those months spent there on the back of that truck that makes me a tad car claustrophobic. That is why I have to open the window and stick my hand, maybe even just a couple fingers, out a small crack between the glass and door. I just need to feel the wind. Even for just a second.
I remember his workshop room. He was an avid collector of junk. Well, I called it junk because he would literally go to the garbage hole and pick up radios and what nots. He was a tinkerer. He would open them and fix them. He was such a smart man. His workshop was half open electronic things on one side. Literally, a pile on one side of the room and a small table with his tools and a chair where he would sit and work away. Trying to figure out what was wrong and quickly fixing them. He would then sell them at a profit like I said a crazy smart man. Tall, always smiling, wearing cowboy hats and never letting anyone get one over on him.
I would walk around with him his legs always so much longer so I had to always walk twice as fast because he wasn't slowing down for anyone not even for me… He was epic.
I loved my grandparents. I never got to be as close as if we had lived closer to them but the moments I did have with them. Those moments I can remember will live with me forever. Good and bad and honestly there weren't many, if any, bad memories possibly because we didn't live that close.
I miss them.
Several years ago my grandma passed away first. We visited less than 5 times because we lived a little over 3,000km away from her and my grandpa, really from all of my blood relatives. When we moved to the United States I turned 5 and we didn't really have much money not enough to travel that kind of distance on a regular basis or even once a year. So when we did visit it was for important reasons or because we hadn't visited in a long time.
I remember her smile. The times she would give me money to buy candy at the store down the street. The tortillas she made by hand that we would eat with only salt right after she made them still warm from el comal. The way she would make eggs that looked like big huge fluffy pancakes with SO much oil that now a days it would be frowned upon but tasted SO good back then you couldn't not eat them. I don't too much but I do remember some things. Good and bad.
One memory that I do remember was the second to last time we visited my grandparents. The very last day we were there my mom had asked me to shower and get ready to leave later that afternoon. Let me tell you a that showering in Mexico, especially in the town where my mom was born, consisted of heating water in pots on the stove and dumping it over yourself while standing in a huge aluminum bin washing away the soap. To a girl of 12 it didn't sound like so much fun when I could instead take what little cash I had, and by cash I mean pesos, go into the towns version of town and play on the arcade machine which is what I did.
By the time I got home my mom was freaking out yelling at me on the street as I walked to the front door about how we were going to be late. VERY angry. Not nice angry. Painful angry I remember that vividly, the anger. My grandma saved me from mom at that point. Stepped between my mom and me. She rescued me. Helped me shower by washing my hair and wiping away the tears. Telling me how my mom wasn't angry with me that she loved me, they both did. Once I was cleaned up she hugged, helped me dress and continued to calm me. That was the last time I saw her standing. One of the last memories I have of her before she had a brain hemorrhage.
The very last time we did visit it was after she the brain hemorrhage. She was being taken care of by a cousin of my mom at her home. I remember when we walked into her house made of mud bricks. My grandma laying in bed not really knowing what was happening, not really understanding. My mom walked up to the bed and smiling at her, holding back tears, letting her know she was there. Grandma looked up, smiled back and looked like she recognized her. The tears mom had been holding back running down her cheeks now. Another moment I remember vividly. This instant is something I always go back to because it was mom and daughter coming back together after so many years apart.
My mom was the one daughter that had moved so far away, taken me with her, that we couldn't visit very often. Moved to a completely different country. The one daughter that sent money to her mom and dad every month for almost 20 years until her dad, my grandpa, passed away.
What I remember from grandpa is that he was SOOOO tall. I always joked that I got my height from him…yes 5'5" is HEIGHT!
I remember one moment specifically. We only had my grandpas '86 Toyota pickup 3 seat-er, probably really a 2 seat-er, and about 6 of us wanted to go on whatever errand he was going on. The 3 adults got the cab and the 3 offspring got the back of the truck. Again, this is the town my mom grew up in so when we visited it was okay, no cop stopped us. I don't even think I saw a cop in my 2 months being there….
Anyway, the offspring got into the back and held on for dear life because my grandpa was a crazy driver. He didn't really understand that there were people with no way of protecting themselves in the back of his truck bouncing up and down. Wind literally blowing through our hair. To this day its is because of those months spent there on the back of that truck that makes me a tad car claustrophobic. That is why I have to open the window and stick my hand, maybe even just a couple fingers, out a small crack between the glass and door. I just need to feel the wind. Even for just a second.
I remember his workshop room. He was an avid collector of junk. Well, I called it junk because he would literally go to the garbage hole and pick up radios and what nots. He was a tinkerer. He would open them and fix them. He was such a smart man. His workshop was half open electronic things on one side. Literally, a pile on one side of the room and a small table with his tools and a chair where he would sit and work away. Trying to figure out what was wrong and quickly fixing them. He would then sell them at a profit like I said a crazy smart man. Tall, always smiling, wearing cowboy hats and never letting anyone get one over on him.
I would walk around with him his legs always so much longer so I had to always walk twice as fast because he wasn't slowing down for anyone not even for me… He was epic.
I loved my grandparents. I never got to be as close as if we had lived closer to them but the moments I did have with them. Those moments I can remember will live with me forever. Good and bad and honestly there weren't many, if any, bad memories possibly because we didn't live that close.
I miss them.