“Estoy más viejo”
“No papaíto, usted está más joven.”
Translation:
“I am more old.“
“No grandpa, you are more young.”
These were the words that would always come up in every conversation I had with my abuelo (Spanish for grandfather); it was something that would either start our conversation or end it. I grew up knowing three out of four grandparents: two grandmothers and one grandfather. My other grandfather had passed away long before I was born, so having just one living grandfather made him all the more special to me.
We lived in different countries, but that made the love we had for each other and the love I continue to have for him that much stronger. This meant that the limited time we had when we were together was even more precious- every joke, hug, discussion, and even meal was cherished. As I wrote these words, my mind is flooded with memories that make me both smile and ache with a deep longing; the mornings abuelo and I would walk to the bus stop hand in hand, debates about cereal and oatmeal, endless jokes, and watching novelas together (with commentary, of course). There were many days when Abuelo would lay in the hammock outside of his tobacco oven with his sombrero covering his eyes yet still recognized my footsteps, motioning for me to sit next to him.
Truthfully, my abuelo laid the foundation of my self-love. I was thirteen and most girls were developing an interest in makeup and a dislike of studying, and he would talk of his dislike for it all. Abuelo told me, “You’re naturally beautiful and you should embrace it, love it. Promise me you won’t wear make-up. Promise me you’ll be proud of what you naturally have.” Over the years, we would revisit that conversation and he would build me up encouraging me to be fearless, strong, smart, and to ignore the negativity. Abuelo, for me, was the biggest advocate for self-love, especially self-respect and confidence. He would encourage me to speak more, speak well, and laugh without shame. He wasn’t perfect, but he was the perfect grandfather to me.
I wanted to write something about him before June ends because it was his month, and now more than ever. For now, I’ll keep him alive by holding his sombrero tight, continue building on the lessons he taught me, and enjoy the occasional drink. Salud!