When I was young my grandparents were major forces in my life. My grandfather, in particular, was present in almost all the significant events that took place in my youth. He was definitely more like a second father to me in more ways than I could ever understand.
He would always be right in the middle of fights and misunderstandings between me and my parents, forcing us to resort to more diplomatic means of ironing out our issues. As I grew up, he was still there, guiding me with stories about life and how he lived his.
His style was not a flamboyant one, picking the least amount of words with the biggest impact behind them when he spoke to me. For some reason, he always knew when I had a problem or when I was not in my normal, relaxed state. No doubt about it, he was I wise man. That's why I miss his presence terribly.
So a few days ago I went to visit his grave and just sat there, telling him about the changes that have been going on in my life and the whirlwind of emotions that have kept me on the edge. I tried to imagine him sitting there with me, his arm draped over me like he used to do, and just hearing me out. I told him about my new career, my new life, the heartache, the longing, literally every minute emotion that was cramping my heart I told him about.
I asked him to intercede for me as he had always done but this time not with my parents but with God. I prayed and asked him to talk to the big guy upstairs and tell him that the little thin guy down here needs a little help. I asked him to tell God to feel for me.
I had no doubt that he was listening because as I was talking, a strong gust of wind blew and the leaves starting falling all over me. It could be grandpa's way of telling me things would be just fine.
I know for a fact that things would have been a lot easier to handle if he was still around but come to think of it, somewhere inside me I know that he would've wanted me to learn from this by myself. Somehow I know that he also knows that I can get through this without him because that night, I dreamt of him just nodding at me and smiling, again without saying a word. That's what he used to do whenever I did good.
I miss him a lot. His temper, his occasional cursing, his earth shaking sneeze, his constant fidgeting, his hatred for garlic, his unique way of eating with his hands, and his insistence on having us sit on his lap and say, "I love you, Lolo", even though we were no longer minors. But one thing's for sure. He's still around but just a few steps farther from me and a lot closer to God. It sure is nice to have another direct line to Him.
I miss you Mr. Zoilo Santos Zambrano. I love you lolo.
