I.
It was 1991, I was in first grade.
My elementary school had a day dedicated to grandparents, and students were encouraged to bring their grandparents to class to celebrate. The day would always land very close to Thanksgiving.
My grandparents were always in Mexico... and they were unusually old when compared to the grandparents of the other kids.
But this year... this year my mom's mom was in town. Mi abuelita Herminia had been in town for months, and this time, she agreed to accompany me to school.
I remember holding her hand and walking her to the cafeteria in the morning. We had breakfast-- scrambled eggs with ketchup.
I then took her to class with me... and we traced each other's hands onto a blank sheet of paper... and then decorated the doodles with glitter and feathers. Our outlined hands turned into colorful turkeys that looked more like peacocks.
For that day, my little cotton-haired grandma was my best friend.
II.
It was 1994. My third grade year was coming to an end.
Mi abuelita Herminia had been in town for many, MANY months.
D and I had to share our sofa bed with grandma... and we were quite frustrated with the sleeping arrangement by now.
We would bitch whenever we had to go shopping with grandma, because she was such an incredibly slow walker.
By now, I was her height, about 4'8".
Mom loved going to the outdoor swap meet. I HATED it, but this day, she had sworn she was going to buy me a bicycle.
I picked out a hot pink bicycle, but Mom wasn't happy with the price. I stomped away, throwing one of the few public fits I ever threw in my life, and made my way to the exit doors of the stupid swap meet.
I remember Mom chasing after me, then stopping to wait for her mom who was slowly making her way to us.
SHE'S ALWAYS SO FUCKING SLOW!!
A second time I turned back to see if I was still being followed, I saw my very angry Mom still trying to catch up to me. I looked past her, to look for my freaking slow grandma. Just as my eye caught the sight of my small, sluggish grandmother, I saw as another shopper rammed his shopping cart into her left hip. I turned around... and laughed out loud.
Once I found Mom's Jeep in the parking lot, I waited... still laughing at the thought of my grandmother getting hit by a shopping cart. I'd stop laughing once I'd think of Mom's assbeating she was going to hand me once we'd got home.
I waited for a long time, and just as I was going to walk back to see where the hell these women had gotten lost, I saw Mom walking towards me with my pink bike. Grandma still walking slow.
While Mom was loading the bike into the back of the Jeep, I was jumping up and down with glee.
Mom: Don't look at me, brat, thank your grandmother.
Me: ???
Me: If it were up to me, I wouldn't have gotten you shit. It was your grandma who felt sorry for you and spent her money on this damn bike.
The whole ride home, I sat quietly in my seat... fighting the urge to cry my eyes out.
III.
It was summer time, 1999. I was freshly out of eighth grade.
Puberty was being CRUEL to me. I was also learning how to deal with PMS mood swings.
Everyone in Hometown had taken to calling me a fatass. The boys who had been crazy about me the previous year, where suddenly making fun of me every chance they'd get... publicly ridiculing me turned into their favorite sport.
Instead of going out with the rest of the girls and endure the verbal abuse from my peers, I'd opt for staying at grandma's house... listening to music as I'd sit on the porch, staring at the horses in the backyard.
I wouldn't talk... and when I did, it would be in English.
I wouldn't eat... and if I did, it'd be at my house, no one else's.
Grandma would watch me, alone and quiet, and she was convinced I was like that because of her.
Grandma: This little girl doesn't speak Spanish... she's ashamed of being Mexican... she's ashamed of me.
Mom: Nah, she's just... shy and quiet.
Grandma: And she doesn't eat my food... because she's repulsed by my food. I gross her out.
I'd just act deaf... lost in my own world of pain, not caring to put her out of her mistake... as much as I knew it was hurting her.
IV.
Winter Break, 2006.
I was nearly done with college, so my spirits were relatively high.
Mom, Dad, Rafa, and I went to Mexico for Christmas break, and we dropped by Grandma's house to say hello.
As we sat in the porch, talking to Grandpa about the happenings since the summer, I looked over to Grandma and caught her grimacing as she grabbed her left thigh.
Me: Are you ok, Abuelita?
Grandma just nodded and left to the bathroom.
She's lying...
In those two weeks, I caught her a few times, quietly dealing with pains.
I also once caught her glaring at her pet cat. The cat was sitting by her feet, and I watched as grandma stared down the cat with a scowl on her face, and proceeded to step on the cat's tail. I saw as she increased the pressure... and as the cat writhed on the floor, in pain, clawing at her foot, and Grandma just increased the pressure to the maximum. The cat began to howl, and Grandma finally released the cat after Mom asked what was going on.
Grandma looked up at me... and I did not say a word as we maintained eye-contact.
When it was time to leave back to Vegas, we dropped by Grandma's house to say our goodbyes. Grandpa opened the door, told us Grandma had already gone to bed.
We walked into her room, and saw her frail little body under her covers.
Mom: Mom? We're leaving...
Grandma: Oh... you are?
Mom: Can you give us your blessing?
As Grandma blessed Mom, Grandpa spoke to Dad, Rafa and me.
Grandpa: She's not doing ok...
Dad: Take care of her for us, will you?
Grandpa: I will. She took care of me all these years... it's my turn now.
I remember looking into the dark room, seeing Grandma propped in her bed, holding her black rosary in one hand, and Mom's hand in the other. Her eyes glistening with tears.
I swore that was going to be the last time I was going to see my grandma... but four month later, it was actually my grandfather who would say goodbye to this world.
V.
Summer, 2007. The first summer without my grandpa.
Rafa was driving Mom, D, and me to Hometown.
Mom dropped a bomb as we drove the long stretch between Chihuahua and Parral.
Tu abuelita se va a quedar con nosotros. (Your grandma is staying with us)
WHAT?! FUCK THAT!!
I threw a terrible cussing tantrum as I sat in the co-pilot seat of the truck.
I bitched. And bitched. AND BITCHED.
THIS IS A VACATION! I'm not going to take care of a SENILE OLD WOMAN!!
I spent the months ignoring my grandma, trying my best not to be in the same room as she.
I remember my ex's mom invited us to dinner at her place... she invited all of us.
When we told Grandma, she refused to join us.
It wasn't until Mom pried that she finally told us why.
Grandma: Es que... me da "gue-guenza"
She was embarrassed.
My stomach dropped.
We reassured her everything would be ok, and that she had to join us. After a little gentle nudging, Grandma agreed.
The day of the dinner party, we were all sitting at the my ex's mom's dinner table... and mid-meal, we heard a noise.
Grandma had wet herself.
Her head was bowed... and she stopped eating.
My ex's mom cleaned up, and tried making my grandma feel less embarrassed... but Grandma just walked out the front door.
Grandma didn't visit a single person after that.
I cherish all the good memories I shared with my wonderfully patient grandmother... yet somehow, it's still the moments I was SO mean to her that adhere to my mind the strongest.
Today marks two years since that awful Sunday morning where we received the phone call telling us her heart had finally stopped beating... and in my heart I still feel like it was just yesterday.
Two years later, I still think I'll find her humming "Cruz de Olvido" in her garden. That I'll be able to walk outside and see her grabbing apricots from her favorite tree, as she does (what I can best describe as) acrobatics on her wooden ladder.
She's still on that never-ending trip... where I'll someday, hopefully, join her.
Descanse en paz, mi viejita.
It was 1991, I was in first grade.
My elementary school had a day dedicated to grandparents, and students were encouraged to bring their grandparents to class to celebrate. The day would always land very close to Thanksgiving.
My grandparents were always in Mexico... and they were unusually old when compared to the grandparents of the other kids.
But this year... this year my mom's mom was in town. Mi abuelita Herminia had been in town for months, and this time, she agreed to accompany me to school.
I remember holding her hand and walking her to the cafeteria in the morning. We had breakfast-- scrambled eggs with ketchup.
I then took her to class with me... and we traced each other's hands onto a blank sheet of paper... and then decorated the doodles with glitter and feathers. Our outlined hands turned into colorful turkeys that looked more like peacocks.
For that day, my little cotton-haired grandma was my best friend.
II.
It was 1994. My third grade year was coming to an end.
Mi abuelita Herminia had been in town for many, MANY months.
D and I had to share our sofa bed with grandma... and we were quite frustrated with the sleeping arrangement by now.
We would bitch whenever we had to go shopping with grandma, because she was such an incredibly slow walker.
By now, I was her height, about 4'8".
Mom loved going to the outdoor swap meet. I HATED it, but this day, she had sworn she was going to buy me a bicycle.
I picked out a hot pink bicycle, but Mom wasn't happy with the price. I stomped away, throwing one of the few public fits I ever threw in my life, and made my way to the exit doors of the stupid swap meet.
I remember Mom chasing after me, then stopping to wait for her mom who was slowly making her way to us.
SHE'S ALWAYS SO FUCKING SLOW!!
A second time I turned back to see if I was still being followed, I saw my very angry Mom still trying to catch up to me. I looked past her, to look for my freaking slow grandma. Just as my eye caught the sight of my small, sluggish grandmother, I saw as another shopper rammed his shopping cart into her left hip. I turned around... and laughed out loud.
Once I found Mom's Jeep in the parking lot, I waited... still laughing at the thought of my grandmother getting hit by a shopping cart. I'd stop laughing once I'd think of Mom's assbeating she was going to hand me once we'd got home.
I waited for a long time, and just as I was going to walk back to see where the hell these women had gotten lost, I saw Mom walking towards me with my pink bike. Grandma still walking slow.
While Mom was loading the bike into the back of the Jeep, I was jumping up and down with glee.
Mom: Don't look at me, brat, thank your grandmother.
Me: ???
Me: If it were up to me, I wouldn't have gotten you shit. It was your grandma who felt sorry for you and spent her money on this damn bike.
The whole ride home, I sat quietly in my seat... fighting the urge to cry my eyes out.
III.
It was summer time, 1999. I was freshly out of eighth grade.
Puberty was being CRUEL to me. I was also learning how to deal with PMS mood swings.
Everyone in Hometown had taken to calling me a fatass. The boys who had been crazy about me the previous year, where suddenly making fun of me every chance they'd get... publicly ridiculing me turned into their favorite sport.
Instead of going out with the rest of the girls and endure the verbal abuse from my peers, I'd opt for staying at grandma's house... listening to music as I'd sit on the porch, staring at the horses in the backyard.
I wouldn't talk... and when I did, it would be in English.
I wouldn't eat... and if I did, it'd be at my house, no one else's.
Grandma would watch me, alone and quiet, and she was convinced I was like that because of her.
Grandma: This little girl doesn't speak Spanish... she's ashamed of being Mexican... she's ashamed of me.
Mom: Nah, she's just... shy and quiet.
Grandma: And she doesn't eat my food... because she's repulsed by my food. I gross her out.
I'd just act deaf... lost in my own world of pain, not caring to put her out of her mistake... as much as I knew it was hurting her.
IV.
Winter Break, 2006.
I was nearly done with college, so my spirits were relatively high.
Mom, Dad, Rafa, and I went to Mexico for Christmas break, and we dropped by Grandma's house to say hello.
As we sat in the porch, talking to Grandpa about the happenings since the summer, I looked over to Grandma and caught her grimacing as she grabbed her left thigh.
Me: Are you ok, Abuelita?
Grandma just nodded and left to the bathroom.
She's lying...
In those two weeks, I caught her a few times, quietly dealing with pains.
I also once caught her glaring at her pet cat. The cat was sitting by her feet, and I watched as grandma stared down the cat with a scowl on her face, and proceeded to step on the cat's tail. I saw as she increased the pressure... and as the cat writhed on the floor, in pain, clawing at her foot, and Grandma just increased the pressure to the maximum. The cat began to howl, and Grandma finally released the cat after Mom asked what was going on.
Grandma looked up at me... and I did not say a word as we maintained eye-contact.
When it was time to leave back to Vegas, we dropped by Grandma's house to say our goodbyes. Grandpa opened the door, told us Grandma had already gone to bed.
We walked into her room, and saw her frail little body under her covers.
Mom: Mom? We're leaving...
Grandma: Oh... you are?
Mom: Can you give us your blessing?
As Grandma blessed Mom, Grandpa spoke to Dad, Rafa and me.
Grandpa: She's not doing ok...
Dad: Take care of her for us, will you?
Grandpa: I will. She took care of me all these years... it's my turn now.
I remember looking into the dark room, seeing Grandma propped in her bed, holding her black rosary in one hand, and Mom's hand in the other. Her eyes glistening with tears.
I swore that was going to be the last time I was going to see my grandma... but four month later, it was actually my grandfather who would say goodbye to this world.
V.
Summer, 2007. The first summer without my grandpa.
Rafa was driving Mom, D, and me to Hometown.
Mom dropped a bomb as we drove the long stretch between Chihuahua and Parral.
Tu abuelita se va a quedar con nosotros. (Your grandma is staying with us)
WHAT?! FUCK THAT!!
I threw a terrible cussing tantrum as I sat in the co-pilot seat of the truck.
I bitched. And bitched. AND BITCHED.
THIS IS A VACATION! I'm not going to take care of a SENILE OLD WOMAN!!
I spent the months ignoring my grandma, trying my best not to be in the same room as she.
I remember my ex's mom invited us to dinner at her place... she invited all of us.
When we told Grandma, she refused to join us.
It wasn't until Mom pried that she finally told us why.
Grandma: Es que... me da "gue-guenza"
She was embarrassed.
My stomach dropped.
We reassured her everything would be ok, and that she had to join us. After a little gentle nudging, Grandma agreed.
The day of the dinner party, we were all sitting at the my ex's mom's dinner table... and mid-meal, we heard a noise.
Grandma had wet herself.
Her head was bowed... and she stopped eating.
My ex's mom cleaned up, and tried making my grandma feel less embarrassed... but Grandma just walked out the front door.
Grandma didn't visit a single person after that.
***
I cherish all the good memories I shared with my wonderfully patient grandmother... yet somehow, it's still the moments I was SO mean to her that adhere to my mind the strongest.
Today marks two years since that awful Sunday morning where we received the phone call telling us her heart had finally stopped beating... and in my heart I still feel like it was just yesterday.
Two years later, I still think I'll find her humming "Cruz de Olvido" in her garden. That I'll be able to walk outside and see her grabbing apricots from her favorite tree, as she does (what I can best describe as) acrobatics on her wooden ladder.
She's still on that never-ending trip... where I'll someday, hopefully, join her.
Descanse en paz, mi viejita.
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