December 6, 1997

Hey Grandma,

It's me, your 'negra'. I never quite understood why you'd call me that, or maybe I was in denial that you had a sarcastic sense of humor I believed only I possessed in the world. Um, this is my blog *shows you around*. I pretty much write almost everything that comes to my mind, dreams, how I'm feeling, rants...never my fears. You already know why. Blogs are pretty popular these days for a number of reasons, but for me it's mostly a way to purge, I hope you like it.

I've waited 12 years to send you this. I'm hoping by now you've settled down wherever you are and have internet access (don't get mad at me, you know I'm joking). We never saw eye to eye in the whole religious scheme of things, but you were okay with that. You knew I believed in God, just not in men and how they set up religions. You were okay with me not doing the whole birthday/xmas fandango things, and came to even see why and sort of accept it. I, too, accepted that you were a devout catholic and never did or will say anything remotely wrong about that. But that's not why I'm here right now, and I trust you really didn't get offended at my afterlife internet joke.

So, um, it was a Saturday morning at 11:16 a.m. and I had just left your side after spending the night with you. Your breathing was really labored and to be honest, I've always felt like complete shit that I didn't notice you were THERE. You know, dying. It wasn't like we hadn't had a year to prepare for it, but still, it shattered us. You sort of were the back bone of the clan, and everyone seemed to be in order when you were around. But yeah, that morning I slid out of the bed where we both had spent the night, stole a quick glance at your chest to make sure it was still moving and took off to shower.

Fifteen minutes later the cell phone rang and dad answered it quickly. He hung up quietly and mom looked panicked, but he only said: "She's not doing good, we have to back to the house real quick." We sped back home, we'd only been a few blocks away, and ran into your house. Uncle Pachi greeted us at the door and mom nearly stumbled into his arms asking if you were alive still. He simply nodded and she seemed to relax a bit. But he grabbed me by my shoulders and stopped me from following, something I didn't understand until I heard my mom's screams fill the house followed by the cries of the rest of your children. At that point I didn't want to follow and simply let my uncle lead me to his bedroom. We both sat at the edge of his bed, and he covered his face and cried loudly. It was the first time I've seen a man cry. I couldn't cry.

After about 5 minutes, when everything had somewhat quieted down, he told me I could go to the room. I took my time getting there, and the house that once seemed inmense now seemed entirely too small, making me reach that damned room entirely too quick. I stopped at the doorway, and could only see the bed with your body from the waist down under the covers like you were sleeping. I remember who was in the room, where they were standing, what they were wearing and the order they were standing in. I slid in quietly, feeling bad that I couldn't at least throw a fit like everyone else had when they went in there. I looked at you and you looked like you were sleeping peacefully, just like I had left you. Everyone sort of pushed me to the bed to 'say my goodbyes' even though I wasn't ready, so I leaned in and whispered 'bye' not really meaning it and kissing your still warm forehead.

They all started crying again and it became too much for me, specially since I couldn't, for the freakin life of me, cry. They seemed to notice I was mostly in shock, since I was the closest one to you out of your grandkids, and decided that the best use for me was to send me to my aunt's house where your other 6 grandkids were, to tell them of your passing. Great. You wouldn't have let them send me to do that, you knew I couldn't handle bad news very well. Alas, I walked to my aunts house still in the middle of this surreal haze and stood in her living room taking in the scene. My 6 older cousins, all boys, were sitting around the Nintendo playing like our primary caretaker hadn't just left us. Kevin, the youngest of those boys was 15 and his grandmother on his mom's side had just died of cancer too a few months back. He had been heartbroken then...I didn't want to imagine now. Alejandro was the oldest, I think he was 21 at the time, and he loved you almost as much as I did out of all of them. So yeah, I walked in the middle of the room and just stared at them wide-eyed with my chest heaving. I must've been pale because Javi got up from the couch and pulled me to sit where he was and kept asking me if I was okay, if I had fallen down. I just said "Grandma" and looked up at Alejandro shaking my head as if indicating "she didn't make it". He didn't need anymore words. He reached over and turned off the t.v. and Nintendo console in a swift movement and they all took off running to the house. They left me there alone. And I stayed there alone for a little while.

Your funeral was huge, and the flowers were your favorite. Orchids everywhere. You were loved, really loved, and people from all over the place came to pay their respects. You wore that dress you bought for Pachi's wedding, a few months earlier, and when grandpa saw you when they opened the coffin he simply whispered "You look like a bride, Nana". I don't need to keep telling you what else happened, but all you need to know is that I can't forget every detail of those days. That picture of us above? You had cancer there already, according to what doctors told us. What were you thinking every time you held me? You already knew there...you could've stopped it, maybe.

After you died, Pachi's wife left him. You hated her anyways, so it's okay, I think he's better off now with his new wife. After you died, it took us 3 years to go back into your room and start throwing away your things, and they decided I got to keep your favorite pijamas and a few bracelets. When you died, my cousins stopped coming home every weekend or spending time with the family. I didn't have anyone to hang around with and pester anymore. I was 13 when you left, and I haven't slept well since.

I try to explain to people why you mattered so much to me, more than my parents in a way. While they were off working, you took care of me every day. You fed me, taught me manners and became my best friend. You taught me how to cook and how to work the land. How to make fun of people, and improved my sarcasm skills, and yes, you gave me this potty mouth of mine lol. I remember every freckle your hands had, and the tone of your voice. I was old enough to remember every feature of your face and the expressions you made. The taste of your cooking will never be reproduced by anyone. And I'll never forget how you used to ask me if I'd give you 100 kisses, and I'd say no because I loved grandpa more. You'd pretend to me upset at me, but I'd see you smiling when grandpa high fived me. I should've given you all of them. I loved you more.

You weren't there when I broke my leg learning to skateboard, and I was laid up on your bedroom for the whole summer. You would've been nice company. You weren't there when mom got sick, she was your favorite. You would've been crazy with worry when we had to take off to the U.S. when mom was on the edge of death, and would've been pissed the hell off when she recovered but dad decided to keep us in this country instead of going back home where we belonged. You would've been so sad, more than mom, to see dad leave us when I was 17. He was your favorite son-in-law and he spoiled you rotten. I needed you then. It was hard.

You missed the part where mom and I became a superhero tag team, not even needing dad to do everything we had to do to stay alive in a foreign country. I worked and graduated high school (you missed that too), but never did get to go to college (sorry about that, I know you thought I'd go). You missed my first boyfriend, and my wedding. You didn't get to meet your great-grandkids (not from me either, sorry), Hector knocked up his gf back in 99 and Gabriel was your first great-grandkid. You missed so many things, but I think we all missed you more.

Dad's back, by the way, and he's trying his best to reverse the damage he did those years he was gone. I wish I could tell you I've become everything you thought I'd be by now, but I haven't got much to show for myself. I've tried to never do wrong to anyone and to make an honest living. I am, however, hard working and loving. I try to take care of mom and dad the best I can, and even though I'm sick now, I'm trying to take care of myself too. I have a new job, and I'm hoping I can become a person of good in it too. I play guitar now and read a lot, just like mom used to and you made fun of her.

I guess it's taken me 12 years to tell you this: I've cried. It took me years but I got to the point where I could mourn you and accept you were gone. I'm sorry I didn't show any emotion when you were sick. I'm sorry I didn't cry when you died or the first years the followed. I'm sorry I'm no longer the Yari you raised and loved. She's in there somewhere, but rarely comes out. I try to not be sad. I try to not resent dad. I try to not do a lot of things. But I no longer hold my tears for you. I've cried for all those things I couldn't before.

And fuck, do I miss you.