La Ramona

Admittedly, I'm ashamed it took cancer to bring me closer to her, to make me realize her value, to understand that she is the key to the past, the blueprint to my history and the reason I am here. Being appreciative of the wrinkles that cover her body resembling not only signs of old age but also signifying chiseled roads of a life filled with anguish, laughter, tears, loss, widowhood, betrayal, joys, anxiety, stress, depression, hunger, peace, acceptance, enjoyment, happiness, sadness, sickness and above all love.

Courageous and captivating is this woman. She speaks her mind and doesn't care what anyone thinks. She can still cook up a storm too when the chemo doesn't have her 'tumbao del caballo'. She rarely cries, but when she does you can't help but cry with her. She's independent, hard headed, stubborn, passive aggressive, and charming in every way. Her laugh is infectious, her smile heart-warming. You do for her she does for you. You don't do for her you can bet that she will STILL do for you. When she lost all her hair and finally moved back home she spent a lot of time showing everyone she could her bald head. As much as she would say, "I don care, eso crece pa' tra" I knew a part of her did care. Even still she looks mighty thuggish and stylish in her beanies now.

Every time she finishes a treatment, or I am going over for a visit, I always tell her, "Gramma, I'm bringing over some beer we are gonna celebrate!" She usually replies, "Nena, pero tu ta' loca!". For her birthday, I told her I was going to bring some over and instead of replying her normal answer this time she said, "Bring IT!"

Even if we weren't that close when I was little, she is the only grandparent I have, and as a woman I am doing my best to know all I can about her. All her struggles, all her fears, all her ambitions, what she liked as a child, what she ate as a child, what she dreamed of as a child, all her secret recipes for making the best sofrito in the world and the best arroz con gandules in the world. I really don't want to be that person with the "coulda-woulda-shoulda" blues.

Phrases like, "El que tenga tienda, que la tienda, o si no que la venda", "llevatelo, I have more!" "cometelo, yo ya comi" "sinverguenca" "mi caso en na" "ay caramba" are just a few that warm my heart when I picture her saying them. Her English is broken. Broken like her heart the day her husband died, broken like her soul the day she lost her father and when she lost her mother. Broken like her spirit when she realized that she would never again see her children under the same roof alive.

When I found her on the floor when she fell, my world came tumbling down. I felt that I had failed her. What was the point of me spending nights with her if I wasn't able to help her? To see her that way changed my life forever and what I call failing she calls saving. She says I saved her life that day, introduced me to her social worker at SSI as her "savior". But I'm no captain, I did the Lord's work that morning.

Our family is troubled and dysfunctional. If I had to rate our dysfunction from 1-10 I would say it falls right around 8.5. You name it, it's more than likely happened. Everyone has gone their separate ways now. I always ask her, "What did you do that your kids have all gone mad?" She laughs, shrugs her shoulders innocently and says, "I don no". She's grown accustomed to the tension that resides in our family. I know she felt that at least one good thing could come from her being sick, and that was the family unida.

We are especially chosen to have blood connections with certain people for a reason. It is not by chance that my Grandmother is my Grandmother. Had I not spent the night with her that night who knows what could have ended up happening. God knew that I felt it necessary to be by her side to protect her. I have a purpose in this family, I know that like I know that this chair will be patiently waiting for me tomorrow. I know that like I know that my sweet old Grandma is going to call me at 6 am sharp to wake me. I can feel that my task in this family is going to be huge and maybe even burdensome, God just hasn't revealed that task to me yet.