My Grandfather, Mi Abuelo

My grandfather always told me, “grandparents love differently.” As I was growing up, I may not have understood this idea but it always stuck with me. Last month, at the age of 89, my grandfather died. And reflecting on his life, and my time with him, I can say now that I know he was right. Grandparents love differently.
When I think of my grandpa, I envision him in the kitchen cooking or reading the newspaper. One of my favorite memories is being with him in the kitchen while he was cooking soup and I was doing my homework. I would tell him whatever I learned at school. Every day, he would read the New York Daily News and El Vocero, the Spanish language newspaper from Puerto Rico. He watched the news throughout the day and always knew a little something about everything! I grew up watching the news with him in English and Spanish. He’d watch the 5pm news on Channel 7/ ABC and then at 10pm on Channel 41/Univision. I see where I get my love of news and books. It’s no wonder I love television and can binge watch news programs!
My grandfather went only to the third grade in Puerto Rico, but he was always reading. He was naturally curious about the world. We had an encyclopedia Britannica in the living room! Despite lacking the means to travel he was quite worldly. He had a love affair with Cuba. He had never been on the island but admired Fidel Castro’s audacity to free Cuba and loved the idea of independence. He wanted this for his island and home, Puerto Rico. By the time I made it to Cuba, my grandfather’s Alzheimer’s was advanced. He didn’t recognize me and didn’t have a good concept of time. When I showed him my pictures from my trips, he’d say, !Valgame Dios! (Oh, my goodness!). Or simply, “increíble” (incredible).” Politics was one of his passions. The 2008 election was important to him. I remember my grandpa saying, “Voy a votar por el negro, pues él va a hacer cosas buenas por nosotros, los latinos.” (I’m voting for the Black guy, he’s going to do good things for us, Latinos.”)
During the summers in the Bronx, he would walk me and my friends to the sprinklers and enjoy the day at the park. By walk, I mean, he’d ride in his scooter by our side. When I heard the Mr. Softy truck on the block, I’d run to my grandpa for money and we’d go to the truck together. He was very social, cool with everyone. Everywhere we went, people greeted him – the owner of the corner store, supermarket, pizza shop, even the neighborhood teenagers! He had a great sense of humor and always told jokes.
Despite the fact that my grandpa was handicapped, he taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels! He stayed at the bottom of a hill in his scooter and watched me ride down the hill. When I got up, he’d be laughing so hard, saying, “I told you press the brakes!” I must have ridden into the bushes and fallen off the bike at least five times. After several tries and many bruises, I got it! Finally, after sunset, and with my training wheels off, headed home.
In elementary school, he "walked" me to the bus stop and picked me up every day. When the bus dropped me off, he’d be there chatting with the other parents or reading a book. In junior high, I was self-conscious about my body. I was the last girl in my group of friends to develop breasts. My grandpa caught me looking at myself in the mirror pushing my breasts together. I wanted them to grow so bad. He said, "Mija, don’t worry, they’ll come. You don’t need them.” I’m in my thirties now and his words still stay with me. My grandpa taught me how to play dominos and chess! He used to love smacking the domino down while saying “capicu!” (when the winning bone can play on either open end of the layout).
Abuelo, (as I called him) was a wonderful grandfather. I never told him what he meant to me. But I hope I showed him my love. Without a doubt, my grandparents love me unconditionally. I never needed anything. I admit, I was spoiled. There is something unique about the love of grandparents. I hope I have grandchildren one day to love them the same way.
