Soledad

Mi abuelita Chole would have been 103 years old today if she hadnt died 6 years ago. She was an incredibly strong women, who managed to balance tradition with change, and wasn't afraid of what people would think of her, or her family. She was born in Zacatecas, and somehow (i'm not sure that anyone really knows) ended up in Durango. She was orphaned at nine, and lived with her aunt, until she got married for the first time. Her new family proved to be worse than living with her aunt. She married two more times, and I believe it was only with her last husband that she found peace and happiness. I wish i knew more of my great grandma's past and her history. I wish i had sat with her and asked her about her life, and her experiences.

One story retold by my grandma, her daughter, was about how they lived in a railroad car because my great grandpa worked on the then booming railroads being built across mexico. She said that they shared those cars with two or three other families, and would some times wake up in a different city.

What i do know about my great grandma was that she was very independent. Maybe it's because she learned to fend for herself at a young age, and maybe because she was ahead of her time. Whichever it was, mi abuelita owned an enormous amount of land for a women. She was respected and well known in Llano Grande and Durango.

When she died, i felt so guilty of my feelings towards her when i was a child. You see, Abuelita Chole lived the majority of her later years with my family. So for as long as I can remember, Chole was always around. And this of course meant that she got my bedroom. And, as a child, my mum's attention. I despised having her around, she always seemed to nag in a language i rarely spoke. And of course, i wasn't her favorite (unlike with my paternal grandfather), but my other sister was. It was when i realised that i would never have her around to check on me, or just be with us, that i deeply regretted my behavior and attitude towards having her around when i was younger. I hoped that she never noticed any animosity i had towards her, and if she did, that she realised i was just a stupid kid.

As i got older, i missed her when she'd spend a couple months of the year in Durango. The house felt empty. I never thought that she could die,or be gone forever and that emptiness in the house would be around indefinitely.

I'll never forget the way she would sit at our dinner table, arms crossed resting on the table with her brown chal wrapped around her shouldars. Sometimes she'd put her head down. Other times she'd eat tacos that my mum would make her, or be drinking some coffee. I remember her thin grey hair that my mum would brush, tie up in a ponytail and then braid. I remember trying on her glasses, and thinking they were pretty. Or her earrings that she could only find in the mercados de Durango. I remember that she would still wear a chal over her head when in mass. She always looked so much bigger than she was. Layered up with slips, undershirts, sweaters, socks, that when she was in the hospital she looked so tiny and fraile. I wont ever forget the sound of her chanclas shuffling on the mat in the living room as she walked over to check on me, or to get her exercise. And the laps she'd take around the table. Or how she felt she'd help my mum out by washing dishes. (cuando mi mami le dijo que no tenia que hacerlo, ella respondio que era lo unico que podria ser para ayudarla). Or when she called Robert Smith el Grenudo. And when she asked why didn't alex dress up as him too. She was always so understanding. And caring. And protective. Especially of me, my sisters, brother and parents. She loved us. And we loved her so much. We still do.

It makes me sad that I can't remember her voice anymore, or the way she smelled. or the way she felt when youd curl up with her. I've never been one to remember people's scent, but hers, i always knew and now its gone. I regret the fact that i didn't appreciate my time with her more. Or that i couldn't spend her last couple months alive with her. She got sick for a couple of weeks here in la, and then insisted she went back to Durango, it was her strength and she had to go back (almost as if she knew this would be her last trip back). A week into her trip in Durango, she became really ill. My mum had to fly out when it didn't seem she would recover and spent a month with her, nursing her back to health. When she was strong enough to fly, my mum brought her back home to us. But she never got better. She was in the hospital for two weeks, fighting for her life. And i only saw her twice.

It was four in the morning when the phone rang at our house. My sisters and i were alone. And i knew as soon as i heard the phone ring that she was gone. I didn't cry until my mum got home. I just sat in bed. And then there was the rush to set up her funeral and planing how shed be taken back to mexico. thinking about it now, I'm not sure why she was buried in Mexico. There's no one there to visit her, or take care of her grave, not like we would have. It was completely surreal, having her wake here, and then flying to Durango and having to sit through another wake, and funeral.

My granny chole was the best grandma ever. And i think everyone who knew her, knows just how amazing she was. or at least how cute and sweet she was. I've been meaning to watch some old home videos with her in them, i guess i can do that tomorrow when i go home for the day. Feliz Cumpleanos, Abuelita Chole. I miss you more than you'd ever imagine.When Abuelita Angie is incredibly neurotic, i wonder how she could have ever been your daughter, and what you would say to her if you could. Thank you for being the wonderful grandma that you were. I love you.