It’s as if I knew

(Written a very long time ago, but moving it to Medium which is becoming my favorite place to think out loud.)

When he came to see me, he was a bit tipsy or so he said. We all knew it was a bit more than that, but it was typical of him to be like this when he was happy, and happy for me he was. I was graduating from high school that week and, because of circumstances that always got in the middle of our lives, he would not be able to make it. But he wanted to let me know how proud he was of me.

He departed yesterday. When I heard the news by phone from my brother, it took me a minute to believe it. It was expected. At least I want to comfort myself by thinking that it was expected. In truth it wasn’t. I always thought he would live forever.

I have always looked up to two people in my life who are leading the way. He was one of them. I always thought he was a wise man who would surely know what to say or who knew what life was like. He was popular with his friends. He knew how to love and to celebrate life. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

All memories come rushing at once. For that, I wasn’t prepared. It was like he had left something in his will indicating that a gate in my mind should open the day he went. It is the closest I have been to opening a time capsule, only this one was buried in my head collecting dust over so many years.

When I was four or five, I remember clearly how I longed for my grandfather to come see me and give me a five-cent coin. He always had one of those for me. I remember being in awe of his skill to handle a drill to fix things. Apparently, he also left some of that skill to me. He loved a good whiskey. I bet I will not have a single glass without thinking of him. At his 85 years, he had thick white hair. I say constantly of how proud I am to have the same thick hair which is going whiter and whiter by the day.

Just last week I was talking with friends about him. He used to build roads in Guatemala since he was a teenager. He understood that I liked to hear about that and talked me through everything there was to know about roads. Why there is a slope in the road when it curves? He knew. How come that in some crossings the asphalt tends to deform around traffic lights? He told me why. What road construction machines he used to handle? He handled them all.

His mind was inquisitive. He was always reading anything he could put his hands on until the end. Everyday he had to read the newspaper and talk about what he had found there. The funny thing is that he passed that love on to me too. I can trace some of my favorite reading topics to the day when I heard him tell a story.

When I wanted to quit university, I stayed in school because he asked me to. Ironically, he asked me to stay so I wouldn’t be like him. He didn’t manage to study much as he had to work to provide for his mother since he was a teenage boy. He didn’t finish high school, but he said that because of that, he knew that he would never be considered a professional even when he knew more than professionals do. I stayed.

He was truly kind and gentle and knew how to love. I don’t think there was anyone who wouldn’t like him. He was charming. He was warm. He cared for his friends. And lots of friends did he have. And he knew how to party.

At this stage, I realize that he left, but he left me all of what he was. I was his oldest grandchild. It’s just fitting that I wanted to become like him. Without his departure I probably would not have realized how much this has come true. I am him with all his virtues and his mistakes, with his skills and his fears, with his capacity to love, and with all of what made him go on.

I would build a memorial, but I think that it’s already done. My oldest son was born on the exact day as my grandfather. He has his name and this honors him more than any physical monument would. It’s as if I knew.