Around 1am on the 18th we got a frantic phone call from my uncle... my grandfather who had long been fighting for his life lost his battle. While we know he's at peace now and is no longer suffering - it hurts more than I could have ever imagined. Every second feels as though my soul is being ripped out of my body. Every breath hurts, every beat of my heart feels more empty. I know time will begin to heal this, but it's no fun in the meantime. My grandfather was the kindest man anyone could ever know. He was a living saint - not in the do-no-wrong sense... more in the real life human sense. He was nowhere near perfect. But he was, to me, a wonder. Grandpa loved us like no other, but as a girl I had to prove myself to him. He didn't love girls less than boys, just different. When it became apparent that of my boy cousins around my age, I was as blessed with the skills to build things, to take them apart, and to help him with whatever needed doing - his admiration for me increased - I had impressed my grandfather. I adored him as much as he did me. Mi'jita. 'My little girl' he called me. Summers in Mexico were spent helping him fix up the farm. Feeding the chickens, collecting eggs. One summer he got my older cousin a baby Golden Eagle. My cousin got sick and was unable to take care of him though - so I took over the majority of the care of "Killer". I taught him to hunt. He let me rub and kiss his beak. Eventually he got too big and had to be released.
My grandfather could hold the most delicate ladybug in his hand and put it out of harm's way, or he could build a house with his own strength. He taught me balance between strength and gentleness. He loved his family more than anything - his devotion was apparent to each of us in different ways - his bond as unique as we all are. He loved us all differently but all the same and in some way he knew the time to let each of us go. I've seen my grandpa really cry only twice in my life, when my grandmother died, and when I moved to Florida. While I'm sure it was mostly that he would miss the children - it was wrenching to see him so upset. He gave us $20 to get some ice cream on the road, prayed over us, cried, and kissed us good-bye. I have millions of memories of my grandfather and for that I'm thankful. I can't imagine not having him - just his presence... we'll adapt somehow - thankful that a little piece of that saint lives in each of us.
2 comments:
Oh, Maria - I am so sorry. I wish I had been as close to my grandparents as you were to your grandpa... what a wonderful man.
You wrote a beautiful tribute. He would be blushing, I am sure.
Bless you! I will be praying that you will live in the good memories and not the loss.
Thanks Shanygne. In a way his passing was bittersweet as he had suffered a stroke in July, but it's still heartbreaking. I was lucky enough to speak at his funeral yesterday. He was just such an incredible man... I miss him so much. He's the only grandfather my kids know as well - my own dad's never seen any of my kids so it's especially hard on them as well. I'm glad they got to know him.
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