A Grandmother’s Journey: Part Two
“I even remember when my grandmother first had her knee surgery two years ago; instead of my grandmother’s sisters coming and helping her, it was my aunts Cookie and Liz that came over to help her during the day, help her walk, help her get in and out of bed, help her get food and water, and help her take her medicine. That’s the kind of love that gives people hope about humanity, the kind of love that restores faith in it, too.”
In last month's issue of The Python Post I wrote about my grandmother, but before I even did that I was confused and conflicted with what I wanted to write about. It wasn’t my idea to write about my grandmother or talk about her life until Mr. Kelly asked for people to consider writing an oral history of their parents or grandparents. At first I was hesitant because I knew my grandmother, I knew about her life, I knew about a lot of things and I was worried that it would make her uncomfortable and she wouldn’t agree to do it.
Then Mr.Kelly gave her a call and convinced her to allow the interview and article to happen. Now, for this issue of The Python Post, I wanted to do it again. Primarily because my grandmother is a wise and strong woman and I figured a lot of people can learn important lessons from her words early on in life that can help them in the future. I proposed the idea to my grandmother and she agreed, so we sat down for another interview.
She talked about things I knew about, she talked about things I had no knowledge about, and she talked about other members of the family and their stories as well. It affected me in a way that I can’t explain, hearing the details and hearing the stories of some of the people closest to me gave me this feeling in my chest that I can’t put into words. Is it empathy? Is it remorse? Is it an understanding? I’m not sure. But with all that being said, I’ve decided to do something a little different for this oral history project. I’ll still talk about what was said, and I will also share some things about members of my family, but I no longer want the focus of this article to solely be focused on just the life of my grandmother. Instead, this time I’d like to make it more about what my grandmother and the people she talked about means to me.
The first person I’d like to talk about in this article is my uncle Tito. Tito grew up in the Bronx just like my grandmother and a good majority of my family did. My uncle had a hard life growing up, granted it wasn’t nearly as bad as what my grandmother went through but he had it rough nonetheless. He grew up in Castle Hill and he was in the streets as a kid. He did a lot of things and most of them weren’t good but he did it out of survival, or at least at first he did. Eventually my uncle gained a reputation for being a hot head, or in better terms people our age would understand, a crashout. This was because in his mind, respect was everything, and to be disrespected on the street warranted and justified his reaction to it. But my uncle wasn’t just some criminal or animal, although people might see him that way.
When I was growing up, I didn’t have a dad. My biological father wasn’t around much but my uncle Tito stepped in to fill that role. As a kid he would play games with me, pick me up from school, and he even tried teaching me how to skate on a skateboard, although it didn't work out too well. I won’t sit here and deny that my uncle wasn’t a sort of monster, as to an extent, he was, but he wasn’t just that. He was a man with heart and courage who never backed down from anyone even if they were bigger than him (he was only 5 '8), he was a man with a lot of love to give, he was a man who defended his family.
But being a crashout wasn’t the only internal conflict he had. My uncle came from a broken home, from a life on the street, and it left him with more demons than he can face. He couldn’t beat those demons so instead of trying to beat them he tried to find a way to co exist with them, that way was turning to drugs. My uncle was an addict, he was addicted to dope. Even as he acted like my father, he was an addict. But eventually he reached a point of no return, and my uncle took his own life with drugs. I was still a kid then and I didn’t understand what was going on, even at the funeral. My grandmother loved Tito, not just because of who he was but also because of how much Tito loved me and how he treated me. I could see it in her eyes when she was about done talking about him. I could see that she misses him dearly and always thinks about him. I won’t lie, I miss him too. More than he could ever possibly know. However, despite the pain of losing him, I appreciate him and I love him. He was the first man to ever act as my father, he taught me how to play games, he was one of the main people that taught me the importance of family, he taught me to have heart. To never let someone make you fear them because at the end of the day, they are human just like you are. And those are lessons I will always hold close to my heart and lessons I will always have gratitude for for the rest of my life.
The next people I’d like to introduce to you all and tell you all about are my aunts Liz and Cookie — my grandmother's cousins. My grandmother loves them and cares about them very much. The first thing that my grandmother said when talking about aunties Liz and Cookie was: “I have 7 sisters, but they are more my sisters than any of them are.” When I asked her about that, my grandmother had explained to me that she and Liz and Cookie weren’t just cousins, but they were also best friends. They grew up together and they spent as much time as they could together. My grandmother even said that they were there for each other during their lowest points in life. When my grandmother left her abusive and broken household, they were there. When my aunts were going through stuff with their parents, my grandmother was there. When my aunt Liz’s wife passed, they were there. When my aunt Cookie had her kids, they were there, and when I was born, my aunts were there. They have always stuck together no matter what, and from my own perspective, their unity with each other is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
My grandma had told me stories about when they were young and they went out together, while she was telling the stories though it was like background noise. I was more focused on how my grandmother looked talking about them. She had that bright glimmer in her eyes, the kind of shine that shows the sweet parts of life. I noticed her ear to ear smile and the occasional joyful laugh she’d release when talking about them. I couldn’t help but smile myself, noticing those things.
This was one of the few points during our interview that my grandmother had mostly happy things to talk about, and I was glad to see her think back on these memories. I even remember when my grandmother first had her knee surgery two years ago; instead of my grandmother’s sisters coming and helping her, it was my aunts Cookie and Liz that came over to help her during the day, help her walk, help her get in and out of bed, help her get food and water, and help her take her medicine. That’s the kind of love that gives people hope about humanity, the kind of love that restores faith in it, too.
But not only were aunties Cookie and Liz there for my grandmother, they were also there for me, too. They always showed me love and support when I was around them, they would always involve me in their conversations and talks, they would always try to make me laugh and feel comfortable, and they would always tell me how proud they were of me. Sure, my uncle Tito and my other uncles showed me love, but this kind of love was different because it was a gentle love. It was like soft parenting love so to speak. I’ll always appreciate them for that, but I will also always appreciate them for teaching me to respect my elders, for supporting me always and teaching me that it’s ok to struggle and have low points because everyone does at one point or another, for teaching me about loyalty and unity. Just like Uncle Tito played the father role when I didn’t have a father, my grandmother and aunts played the mother role.
Finally, after sharing my feelings and sharing some of the stories of my family, I want to bring it back to the true star of the show: my grandmother. I talked about how much I love and appreciate my grandmother in the last issue, but I don’t think it was enough. Then again how could it ever be enough? I could write pages upon pages about the love I have for my grandmother and it still wouldn’t be enough to show my gratitude and appreciation for her. My grandmother has been my number one supporter in my life, she’s been my main caregiver, my biggest fan, my mother, my grandmother, all of it. I know that there isn’t a way I could pay her back for everything she’s given me, but maybe this is a way that I can show her that I understand the pushing and the bothering and the continuous talks about going to college and doing my work and trying my best and everything. She just wants the best for me and she wants me to make something of myself, and I know she might just be the loudest one when I walk across that stage at graduation. And I can’t wait to make her proud, to show her that I did it, to show her that all of her sacrifice and hard work wasn’t in vain. I love you grandma.