(still in Queretaro) - I've been thinking lately...why didn't I take up this opportunity years ago? I imagine my immature-self simply didn't think it was important enough. While being here, I find myself thinking of my grandfather, alot. Well, there's a period in every day that he crosses my mind wherever I'm at. I dunno why, almost 5 years after he passed, I still feel no acceptance that he's gone. Unfortunately, I'm one of those people that doesn't get over things easily and dwells on mistakes or regrets, far too often. In return, that characteristic makes me very vulnurable and fragile. Anyhow, coming here and trying to better my spanish...I can't help but feel this is something I should've done long ago. Growing up, my grandfather made it a point to try and speak english to me and my siblings. But I guess I was too selfish to return the courtesy of learning spanish so I could converse with him better. Though I always knew I "wanted" to learn spanish, I seemed to care more about my present life, and rarely considered the course of my actions. As of December 28th, 2003, the day finally came where I'd procrastinated for too long. Even during his final few days, I found myself more consumed with the rotten life I was living back in NM...instead of embracing the final days of my grandfather's life. It breaks my heart thinking of the last 3 times I saw him during the last 6 months of his life. August 2003, when he was going through dialosis, I failed to even spend 24 hrs. with him, and fled Phoenix to be with my worthless partner instead. Then...my aunt Lisa's wedding, October 2003...a short 2 months later. I saw my grandfather in the front row in a wheelchair. For as active an healthy as he was even a few months prior, I couldn't believe the sight. He appeared to have aged 10 years in those 2 months. Anyhow, even then, once again I cut my weekend short and flew back to NM. In fact, I didn't even say "hi" to my grandfather at the wedding because he was so ill, he couldn't stay for the entire reception and I didn't make it a point to go talk to him before he left. What was wrong with me!? God it kills me to reflect on how I acted. I was oblivious to the fact that we were going to lose him soon. I acted as if he meant so little to me...but in all honesty, below my selfish surface; he meant the world to me.
I love my Papa Nesto dearly. I always looked forward to seeing him. I loved his cheerful and joker personality. I remember him trying to play basketball with Chris & I when we were 12 yrs. old, *LOL*. Picture a cute, little old man, launching hook-shots from the neighbors yard & trying to do lay-ups, backwards...He was hilarious :-). Or how bout the time I learned how to play the song "Cielito Lindo" on the recorder (flute), and played it for him. He loved it! He had me play it over and over again while he sang the words. Needless to say, that song holds a significant spot in my memories. Every trip to Mexico he'd take me, my siblings, and my cousins out to his farm...all piled up in his tiny little Nissan truck; splashing through the river, driving like a crazy man. While all us kids had an absolute BLAST! He was strict, but he was the sweetest, most loving person I may have ever met. He had lord knows how many grandchildren, and he adored every single one of us; and suprisingly, had patience for all of us. I remember the look on his face every time we had to return to the States. He would hug my mom before she got in the car and as we drove off, I'd look back at him, and always saw "I miss you guys already" written all over his face.
The last image I have of him alive was a few days before he passed. His eyes were closed, and my last words to him were "Vaya con Dios. Te quiero mucho" and I kissed him on the forehead. But when I leaned over to tell him that, I must've said it too loud and his eyes opened extremely wide because I'd startled him. So my last picture of him was a facial expression of fear.
However, out of all these feelings of regret and missing him, I still have that comforting dream I had a few months after he passed away. In the dream, my family and I were at his house in Mexico. I knew he'd passed away, yet I kept seeing him throughout the house. One distinct image was him in the kitchen, sitting at the chair closest to the kitchen counter. He was sitting there with his straw cowboy hat, longsleeve white/tan button-up shirt, and his tan pants, shuffling papers. Another image I remember from the dream was him walking across the living room and smiling at whoever was sitting on the couch. Later in the dream, I was sitting in my aunt Lisa's room talking with my cousin Tera. I asked her "Have you been seeing Papa Nesto?" and she responded, "Oh yeah. We see him all the time, he's always here." I don't exactly know how we're supposed to interpret dreams, but I feel it was his way of saying "I'm happy and always here with you."
Now, I've got to rely on prayers that my grandmother will still be here. Her mind is fading fast, so I feel I have not much time. However, that's a totally different blog that will have to wait for another day.
~Sara
