Friday, November 10, 2006

Para Mi Abuela

It's funny, I had recently finished reading Sophie T's rememberance of her grandmother a couple of days ago.

And so, at an indeterminate time in the early morning on November 10th, my grandmother (the Abuela in the subject line) passed away in her sleep, after watching whatever passes for late night entertainment on Univision. (At least she went having a full understanding of whatever was happening on the screen.) She was theoretically 79 (give or take a couple of years. There's some disputing the accuracy of the documentation).

The family's reacting in the numerous ways families do; and for my part I'm recalling the fun stuff, the fond memories and all that, and whatever it is we choose to describe as "feeling her presence" that very much is happening with me right now. Hey, Abuela. Nice slippers.

She's from a simpler time and a simpler place, so a lot of my memories of her are of her in a day coat and slippers, working over the stove, with a cigarette dangling from her mouth. I recall her worrying nature, as well as the coffee cut with condensed milk and buttered hot french bread she'd give to me as a snack when I got home from school in PR.

My favorite memory, though, has to be the hilarious relationship she had with the Tom Hanks/Shelley Long vehicle The Money Pit, the broad physical comedy of which transcended the fact she couldn't speak English. I was fond of the movie myself (need to see how dated it feels now), so the house would watch it whenever it was repeated on HBO, which was very very often.

There we'd be, the sibs and I, laughing at whatever preposterous situation was playing itself out on the screen ("Two weeks," the contractor would say), and my grandmother would come in from the kitchen to see what was what. Inevitably, she'd get caught up in the story, and the next bit of physical comedy would come on, and she'd lose it. Whether it was Hanks falling in the sinkhole, or the tub crashing through the roof, or, spectacularly, the whole scaffolding breakdown scene; by the time the statue took a leak on Hanks' head, she'd be laughing uproariously.

And then, she'd worry about her heart condition, poor thing, and she'd leave the room with tears in her eyes. It never failed. The sibs and I loved her for it.

The last Xmas the fam and I had together, my brother in LA gave her a DVD copy of it. It featured Spanish dubbing. I truly wish I had thought of it first.

Now, I'm crying, so: Adios, Abuela. Te amo, ay dios mio, como te amo. Bendicion. "Que dios te bendiga, m'ijo."

13 Comments:

At 5:29 PM, Blogger Prego said...

Coño... Lo siento, hermano. Mi mamà muriò hacen seis años. Cada vez que voy al cementerio con mis hijos (que tienen dos y cinco años) los acostumbre a pedir la bendicion.

Ahorita tu abuela y mi mama quizas estan viendo "Dos Mujeres, Un Camino" reruns con Selena.

My best to your family.

 
At 1:15 AM, Blogger keda said...

beautiful memories.

that condensed milk thing.. and physical comedy. they all love that huh?! :)

take care sweetie. and best wishes to all your family.

 
At 9:00 AM, Blogger JJisafool said...

My heart is with you, buddy.

 
At 12:10 PM, Blogger abbyladybug said...

Oh, I'm really sorry, Jose. I just finished reading V's tribute to her grandmother because it's the anniversary of her grandmother's death. Weird coincidence. I'm thinking about you.

 
At 9:16 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

2nd time around...

It's the memories that carry you through. You know...

*hugs*

 
At 10:20 AM, Anonymous Principessa said...

Take care, the memories DO help you through...smile, laugh, remember...

{hugs}

 
At 1:06 PM, Blogger the beige one said...

thanks to all for your kind thoughts and well-wishes, delivered here and via email.

The family's generally recovering, though there are a couple of worrisome points here and there.

Anyway, thanks again, I am humbled.

 
At 1:53 PM, Blogger Joe said...

So very sorry to hear that, Jose. The wife and I send you love and good thoughts.

 
At 7:48 PM, Blogger Stine said...

Oh sweetie, I've just now read this. I will place your grandma in my chanting.

What a beautiful tribute you wrote. I was just telling Ly the other day that I really had an urge to see many pictures of you as a child. Do you have any with you and your grandma?

 
At 3:25 PM, Blogger the beige one said...

I was borne from a pod, fully emerging into the world at the age of 18...there are no pictures of me as a wee sprat, sorry to report.

At least none I'd care to share...

 
At 6:51 PM, Anonymous Joely said...

hey joey... that was really nice to read. As a matter of fact i just recommended to G and Joseph that we watch that movie in memory of her. Maybe we should do it again when you guys come for Christmas. Take care brother.

 
At 7:23 AM, Blogger Missuz J said...

Just catching up on the Blog, Mr. Beige. Sorry to be late in offering my electronic hug and kiss.

 
At 1:28 PM, Blogger the beige one said...

Thanks Miss Uz J!

 

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