Yesterday's blowup is something that would have been frowned upon by my Garcia side-- my grandmother, her siblings, and especially their father.
This side, the Garcias, are known for their generally calm and patient disposition. They were raised to mind their own business, be people of faith, and work hard. Their patience was OFTEN tried, and instead of getting physical, or even vocal about their anger (I have never met people of such few words. Wonder where I get my silence from? Here. 100%), they'd just walk away and say "Que haya un tonto y no dos." (Let there be ONE fool, not TWO)
In September, I had the privilege to go back to Durango, and see one of the remaining Garcias: mi Tia L. She was the cutest, most hardworking little lady my eyes ever did see. She was kind beyond measure... she had this way of looking at you, so adoringly, without saying a word-- only squeezing your hand/arm. When we'd sit in a group and talk, I'd think she wasn't listening (because she was so busy looking at everyone, in her own world, as though trying to mentally soak in everything about that moment), but suddenly she'd ask a question that would catch me off guard-- question totally pertaining to the conversational topic ("Holy moly! She was listening the whole time?!"). And she had this wit... which often went over people's heads, but the more I'd listen to her, the more I'd giggle to myself, and shoot her a quiet smile ("Oh, clever! I got you, Tia ;) ").
A widow at a young age, she learned to HOLD. IT. DOWN. I can't tell you the number of times I visited her, only to be greeted by one of my primas who'd tell me mi Tia L was outside trimming the trees... or, too often, on the roof, fixing it (she was still a busy-bee like this in September).
Each visit, she'd sort of force-feed me... not because I needed it, but because whatever she was giving me tasted DAMN GOOD and I NEEDED to try it (she force-fed me a .5 liter of coca-cola in September, because Coca-Colas are THE BEST. I don't drink soda, but for her, I'd chug a gallon of it. Then she didn't let me leave the house until I finished the lollipop she had given me... to wash down the coke, ya know?). Her enchiladas rojas? Only THE best!
In September, for the first time ever, she gave me her benediction. I never knew about her benedictions... so special... so... unique for each person-- I wasn't the exception, she made my benediction quite particular... it was like she knew what I needed. It's a beautiful moment I'll forever cherish...
... along with all those times with the sodas, the enchiladas, the frijolitos, the tight, loving squeezes to my arm, her gentle, adoring stares (she was one of the few who ever told me, from the very beginning "You are such a beautiful girl. So strong and tall... always so beautiful." Whereas everyone else's "compliments" would go somewhat like "You know... if you lost a few pounds, you'd be SO PRETTY!")... or how much I admired her ability to forgive (if they ever murdered my only son, in cold blood, in front of the town church, during the festivities of the patron saint... I would never have the heart to forgive the murderers. I would NEVER accept their apologies, and I would never allow them to walk free, as if nothing ever happened. But she did)... and her never ending pride and love when she'd show me the photos of her gorgeous kids, grandkids, great-grand kids, and even great-great-grandkids.
My wonderful cousins, I join you in your sorrow. I hope you know I love you all-- each and EVERY ONE of you-- with all of my heart, and grieve at the thought of any of you suffering with this loss. I am glad, however, that there are so many of you-- people who have a piece of this magnificent woman in their hearts (and genetic make-up), who are able to share it with the rest of the world. She left quite the legacy... and will be greatly missed.
... this is what I wished I could have posted... what I WANTED to post... but... I decided to keep the memories to myself. Is the selfish?
If there is anyone who deserves to rest in paradise, I know for a fact mi Tia L is one of them.
I can't begin to describe how grateful I am for the time I spent with her, and the opportunity I had to see her one last time this September.
She left me with some beautiful memories and beyond-admirable life lessons.
Hometown no longer has a reason to... I no longer need to go there... at least not immediately. It ended today.
This side, the Garcias, are known for their generally calm and patient disposition. They were raised to mind their own business, be people of faith, and work hard. Their patience was OFTEN tried, and instead of getting physical, or even vocal about their anger (I have never met people of such few words. Wonder where I get my silence from? Here. 100%), they'd just walk away and say "Que haya un tonto y no dos." (Let there be ONE fool, not TWO)
In September, I had the privilege to go back to Durango, and see one of the remaining Garcias: mi Tia L. She was the cutest, most hardworking little lady my eyes ever did see. She was kind beyond measure... she had this way of looking at you, so adoringly, without saying a word-- only squeezing your hand/arm. When we'd sit in a group and talk, I'd think she wasn't listening (because she was so busy looking at everyone, in her own world, as though trying to mentally soak in everything about that moment), but suddenly she'd ask a question that would catch me off guard-- question totally pertaining to the conversational topic ("Holy moly! She was listening the whole time?!"). And she had this wit... which often went over people's heads, but the more I'd listen to her, the more I'd giggle to myself, and shoot her a quiet smile ("Oh, clever! I got you, Tia ;) ").
A widow at a young age, she learned to HOLD. IT. DOWN. I can't tell you the number of times I visited her, only to be greeted by one of my primas who'd tell me mi Tia L was outside trimming the trees... or, too often, on the roof, fixing it (she was still a busy-bee like this in September).
Each visit, she'd sort of force-feed me... not because I needed it, but because whatever she was giving me tasted DAMN GOOD and I NEEDED to try it (she force-fed me a .5 liter of coca-cola in September, because Coca-Colas are THE BEST. I don't drink soda, but for her, I'd chug a gallon of it. Then she didn't let me leave the house until I finished the lollipop she had given me... to wash down the coke, ya know?). Her enchiladas rojas? Only THE best!
In September, for the first time ever, she gave me her benediction. I never knew about her benedictions... so special... so... unique for each person-- I wasn't the exception, she made my benediction quite particular... it was like she knew what I needed. It's a beautiful moment I'll forever cherish...
... along with all those times with the sodas, the enchiladas, the frijolitos, the tight, loving squeezes to my arm, her gentle, adoring stares (she was one of the few who ever told me, from the very beginning "You are such a beautiful girl. So strong and tall... always so beautiful." Whereas everyone else's "compliments" would go somewhat like "You know... if you lost a few pounds, you'd be SO PRETTY!")... or how much I admired her ability to forgive (if they ever murdered my only son, in cold blood, in front of the town church, during the festivities of the patron saint... I would never have the heart to forgive the murderers. I would NEVER accept their apologies, and I would never allow them to walk free, as if nothing ever happened. But she did)... and her never ending pride and love when she'd show me the photos of her gorgeous kids, grandkids, great-grand kids, and even great-great-grandkids.
My wonderful cousins, I join you in your sorrow. I hope you know I love you all-- each and EVERY ONE of you-- with all of my heart, and grieve at the thought of any of you suffering with this loss. I am glad, however, that there are so many of you-- people who have a piece of this magnificent woman in their hearts (and genetic make-up), who are able to share it with the rest of the world. She left quite the legacy... and will be greatly missed.
... this is what I wished I could have posted... what I WANTED to post... but... I decided to keep the memories to myself. Is the selfish?
If there is anyone who deserves to rest in paradise, I know for a fact mi Tia L is one of them.
I can't begin to describe how grateful I am for the time I spent with her, and the opportunity I had to see her one last time this September.
She left me with some beautiful memories and beyond-admirable life lessons.
Hometown no longer has a reason to... I no longer need to go there... at least not immediately. It ended today.
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