Siempre tu Niña Chiquita

 A few weeks ago while we were sitting around the table drinking coffee at my parent’s house my dad mentioned that my grandfather was sick. His health had actually been on the decline for about a year now. His medication was being adjusted, and he was still recovering from a previous illness. So it was like a double whammy. In my mind, this was still my strong abuelito, and he had faced a lot worse before this so I just assumed that he’d fight through it. He’d get better and we’d be down for a visit at the end of this year like we had planned. I made a mental note to grab our passport paperwork that next week. 

Well, the weekend went by and we spent it running around from our house in town to the house out in the country. I was so focused on what all we needed to get finished before that Sunday that I didn’t really notice much else. I asked about my dad for updates on my grandpa and he would just give me the same answer: he’s sick; no improvement. I should have listened a little harder. What my dad really meant was that grandpa wasn’t going to get better. And by the time I realized it my mom was calling to let me know that grandpa was dying, “Your dad is going to drive down there this week. Your grandpa is deteriorating quickly. They don’t think he’ll make it much longer.” 

Now, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think we all know that I was grandpa’s favorite. That's right, I'm lookin' at you, little brother. My grandpa loved us all but I was doted on the most. And I ate it up every time we saw each other. I was his “niña chiquita”. His “preciosa”. He would always scoop me up and twirl me around while listing off all of the terms of endearment he could think of. If I wanted to go to the corner store or “el centro” he’d be the first to say, “Vamos.” And off we’d go, hand in hand. There was this one particular story that he liked to tell everyone too. When I was about five or six he and my grandma came to visit us. My dad had some kind of tournament that we were at, and my mom had my brother and me in strollers. But I was getting really fussy and *ahem* bratty as the day went on so my grandpa came around to pick me up out of the stroller. Apparently, this caused me to let out some giggles and wrap my chubby arms around his neck. He walked with me clinging to him all throughout the park that day. I refused to let him put me down, he would say. He'd also mention that at one point someone turned on some music which caused me to start wiggling around. So he danced around with me to my delight. He always said it was one of his favorite memories. As I got older the twirls turned into long hugs, a kiss on the temple, and then he’d tell me how much he missed me. He’d ask me how I was doing and then he’d ask me to elaborate on the things that dad had already told him. He would listen intently and as I talked about my life. Regardless of what stage of it I was in. And trust me there were some ROUGH stages. 

Now, my grandpa wasn’t always the greatest man. He had his faults for sure. I had always had him up on this pedestal because he was just the greatest in my eyes. But I remember very vividly, the night that it went away. The night that I found out my grandpa wasn’t perfect. That he had made some pretty huge mistakes in his life. Here I was, listening to someone as they dished on all of our family dirt and it felt so horrible to have to hear it. I didn’t want to know these things. I didn’t want to see my grandpa in that light. But what I realized as I sat there listening to all of this history was that he was human. And he was trying to atone for his past mistakes. Even when it wasn’t the most popular thing to do. Even when it caused some of his own children anger. He was trying to do right. For that, I couldn’t fault him. And nothing was ever going to take away the love I felt for him. 

A little over two weeks ago, I saw my grandpa for the last time, over a video call. I tried so hard not to cry but as soon as he was told who I was his face lit up with recognition as he said “Ahh! Mi niña.” And the tears just came tumbling down. My grandpa, my abuelito querido, was really slipping away. His face was hollow and he looked so frail. Seeing him like that really squeezed my heart. He could be gone at any moment. I wiped the tears away and took a deep breath. “Todavía no estoy muerto. No llores mija,” he told me. I let out a little laugh and smiled at him. He smiled back and then asked me how I was doing. I tried to answer but my voice shook. I watched as his gaze drifted and then he started talking about something else. But then there was a pause as he looked at the screen. I cleared my throat, wiped away more tears, and then proceeded to let him know just how much I loved him. I told him that I wished that I were there and that I was sorry I couldn't be. I told him that dad would be on his way soon. He then pointed at one of my necklaces and said he wanted it. “Te lo doy,” I said. Emery made her way over to me and as she came into view one of my aunt’s told him who she was, and he smiled again. “Mi niña,” he said before closing his eyes. My aunt told me that he grew tired easily and would fall asleep. She cried right along with me as she explained that he was just getting worse by the day. After a few minutes, we ended the call. I immediately called my brother to let him know that he should try to call them too when he got the chance. After finishing up the conversation with him I took the medal - which had come as a pair with the one around my neck, and I slipped a black cord through it. I took it over to my parent’s house and told my dad to give it to my grandpa. We would now and forever have a matching set.

 

Last Friday, my grandpa took his final breath. I’m thankful that I was able to say goodbye on that last video call. Something we didn’t get with my grandmother. And I’m so happy that he got to see Emery one last time too. But I’m going to miss him more than I could ever express. I pray that he’s in peace. I pray that he was reunited with my abuelita. And I can’t wait to see him again someday.

 

Te quiero mucho y te voy a extrañar abuelito. Te llevas una parte de mi corazón contigo. Hasta que nos volvamos a ver siempre seré tu niña chiquita. 

You Take A Piece of My Heart

My grandmother, on my father’s side, passed away on Tuesday afternoon. It was completely unexpected. The circumstances that led to her being in such a fragile state to begin with fill me with such anger, and I hope that eventually something will be done. But there’s no bringing her back. And right now, I am just filled with sadness that we can’t be there. Thankfully, my father is. What was originally supposed to be a week stay beginning this Friday turned into him leaving a full week earlier. Because of this he was able to be at her side until she passed. And I find great comfort in that. When my dad called us on Tuesday afternoon with the news I was devastated. But I was also extremely grateful that he was able to be there with her.

My grandmother was a wonderful woman. I would argue that she was practically a saint. She lived for her children. And then when grandchildren came along she reveled in the role of grandmother. She selflessly served others, and there was never a stranger. When my brother and I were growing up we spent weeks out of our summer at my grandparent’s house just outside of Ciudad Victoria. There were a few Christmases there too. She would always have flour tortillas, pan dulce, and chocolate milk stocked up for when we arrived. We would walk all over that tiny village, and sometimes take the bus into “el centro” for shopping. God, I loved being there. In that house with the wrap around balcony, and the great big windows that let in a cool breeze that somehow always smelled like rain. We’d often sit on the edge of that balcony at night just looking out over the village. Stargazing when the lights began to turn off all around us. Their home is surrounded by plants, trees, vegetables, and flowers that she planted and tended to her whole life. She insisted that they be looked after at all times when she was away. Those trips to Mexico taught me a lot about life. How fortunate I was to have been born in Texas. To have such a big family with roots in Mexico. To be able to come and go when I wanted. To be grateful for what my dad went through in order to get to where he’s at. Which never would have happened had my grandmother not pushed him. Wanted better for him. And I will always love her for that.

As we got older, and laws became stricter we weren’t able to visit as often. It’s been about fourteen years since I’ve been to their home. Sometimes she and my grandpa would meet us at our cousin’s house in Reynosa in order for us to be able to see them. And then in the past two years we started making trips down so that they could come to Texas for a few stays out of the year. The last time they were here was in June, and I’m so happy that we were able to have them here for over a month. When they left to go back home I sat in the room as she packed up her things. We double checked to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Especially the Nivea lotion that she had discovered, and fell in love with. My dad had bought her a great big bottle, and she had it stacked on top of everything in her bag. She was excited to be getting back home to her garden, and her eyes twinkled. When she finished, she sat next to me on the bed, and put her head on my shoulder. I hugged her, and kissed her forehead. “Te quiero tanto, buelita.” I told her as we held onto each other. “Yo tambien mi niña. Te quiero mucho.” she said after kissing my cheek. And then she told me that I would have to come visit in the Spring so that I could see all of her flowers. I told her I would apply for my passport at the beginning of 2019 in order to be ready for a trip in the Spring. This whole year I had been putting off getting a passport because I didn’t need one in order to cross into Reynosa when we went to pick them up. My dad would offer to pay for it but we’d all been pretty tight on money so I would decline and tell him we’d do it another day. When we had more money and time. Today as I sit here typing this up I’m regretting that decision so much. The last mental image I have of my grandmother is one of excitement and happiness on her face. Of hugs, kisses, and plans for the future. I will treasure that image of her always. It was the perfect example of who she was.

Today, they are laying my grandmother to rest. Since we (Emery, my mother, sister-in-law, and myself) don’t have passports we were unable to go. We looked into an emergency passport card, but they still take 2-4 days to process. And as her passing was very unexpected they wouldn’t be ready in time even if we went that route. So today, since we can't be there in person, I’m choosing to remember all of the best memories I have of her. I will remember her voice, that laugh, and the way she would say “Beto” when calling for my dad. I will remember the happiness and tears she had when we bought her a new Wringer Washer. She did not like updated washing machines. I will remember the pan dulce she would sneak me, and the sly little smile she would give when my dad would mention taking her out for ice cream. I will remember how she always wanted to feed us. Even after we had already eaten. I will remember her as a strong mother who suffered so much, but made the best of everything. Today I choose to celebrate who she was, and I can only hope that I'm able to carry some of that on with me.

💕

Wordless Wednesday - Mexico 2016

*I try not to post pictures of the kids due to privacy so this is all you guys get...sorry.

Hello, 2017

Soon after my last post there was a memorial service held for James. Sadly, we weren't able to make it. His mom has told us that she plans to come visit sometime within the next few months so I'm hoping to get to see her then. My heart still hurts for her, and sometimes I catch myself thinking that it's not real. It hasn't sunk in yet. And I'm not sure if it ever will...? Mid-December I finally made my way to Mexico for a brief, yet fulfilling, visit. We went back to drop off my grandparents which was bittersweet. I wish they could have stayed longer because it felt like they had just gotten here before they had to make their way back. Next time I'm hoping to be able to take Em along so she can meet some of her cousins too.

Christmas was spent with family. Both sides. My brother, and sister-in-law were here for a week too. My other sister Olivia was here as well so I was really grateful to have everyone within minutes of each other again. Even if it was only for the week. It seemed like it had been so long since the last time we were all together. Eating, laughing, and just enjoying each other's company. New Years Eve was actually spent at home, in my PJ's, and with wine. Em fell asleep early, and so did my husband. Don't let that "accomplishment" fool you though because my ass was in bed by 12:05 am. Still, I consider myself blessed to have been able to close out 2016 with family, and friends.

This new year felt different. And if I'm being honest I had been feeling a shift for the past few months now. As you all know, for me 2015 ended with pain, humiliation, and grief. However, 2016 was a testing year as well. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. It brought with it some understanding, strength, and awareness that I didn't have before. But above all else it brought me growth. The ending of it was welcomed, and despite tragedy, I felt like 2016 was the closing of one long chapter. I felt like I was almost at the top of this big ass mountain that I had been trying to climb all year. In my head I knew that if I could just get to the very top I would finally be able to see something. That things would be clearer for me. I had been trying really hard to heal, move forward, and yet I had been so focused on what happened that I couldn't get passed that last obstacle. Well, I can say with certainty that there was a click. A "shit or get off the pot" kind of moment if you will? That shift happened, and even though I'm not exactly sure when it took place I know I walked into 2017 with clarity. Sure there's a bit of haze left over, but overall I feel like this is truly going to be my year. 

So.... Hello, 2017. 

Mexico

When I was little, up until I turned 18, my family and I would always find time to make a trip to Mexico to visit family. The majority of my father’s side lives in Ciudad Victoria, Tamaulipas and we’d make an attempt to visit every other year when possible. As I was growing up I absolutely loved it! I looked forward to spending that week with my grandparents, and all of my cousins. We would have huge family dinners, lots of family gatherings at different houses, and so much fun playing at the local cancha with all of the neighborhood kids. Man, I wish I could tell all of you the many stories I have from there. I don't think there was a single visit that didn't hold some kind of adventure for us. It held the newness of a different place, the familiarity of family, and the much needed getaway. Mexico definitely holds a special place in my heart.

So, a few weekends ago my dad said he wanted to take a trip to Mexico either this fall or next summer, and wanted to know if we wanted to go too! He’s currently saving money to renew his and my mom’s passports for this trip and hopes to have everything done by this fall if not sooner. He offered to pay for Emery’s passport and told us to let him know so we could start planning. Our first responses were “YES!” of course we’d love to go. All of us together, with our respective families, making the trip to go see family in Mexico for the first time in years sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. I could only hope to be so blessed! The thought of my grandparents finally getting to meet my husband and daughter in person did so many things to my heart. And I was already thinking of the many things we’d be able to show them. How much better could it possibly get, right?? But then reality set in and even though my brother is still pretty set on going, whenever the time comes, I’m a bit undecided.

As many people already know things in certain parts of Mexico aren't great. The past few years have been tainted with massacres, bombings, and kidnappings. Mexican’s who had American relatives were threatened on a daily basis (we experienced this first hand). And many of the cities were put on lock-downs or curfews. My grandparents city included. Since then, it’s gotten a lot better, but there’s no doubt that the threat is there. Now, I haven’t really read up on whether American’s are still being targeted or if the violence is just being played out between cartels.We know a lot of people that have safely gone and come back regularly. But like many of you my husband has also read the horror stories about the violence going on. So when I suggested the trip he immediately shut it down. He said something along the lines of “No way are we risking our safety for a visit. We have a daughter to think about!”

He’s pretty set on this answer. I’m sure he thinks I’m insane for even attempting to talk him into it. And I've tried to remove my feelings from this and think about it in a realistic way. What are the chances of something happening to us while we’re down there? Is he just being a “negative Nancy” and thinking of only the bad? Maybe he’s just being overprotective? But as much as it pains me to admit it I constantly wonder if he’s right? I love my family in Mexico and I would love for them all to meet my family. I think Emery would have a blast, and I truly miss it. I want to go back. But right now, I’m wondering if this is the best idea? Should I take a chance and risk it? I know that we aren't supposed to live our lives in fear because then we’d never experience life. But where do I draw the line?