photo of me and one of my brothers in a playhouse at our grandparent’s house (❣️ the pants )

Perhaps not everyone can say they super-love their grandparents, for whatever the reasons, but I am fortunate to say that they still affect me even though they’ve been gone since the summer of 1997. They were very different from each other, and although I love them both, yes, I have a favorite. The voice and figure of my paternal grandfather still loom over my life.

Loom sounds sinister, heavy, + that is not how I mean it. Hmmm, the definition of loom definitely does not properly describe what I mean. I’ll think of a better word, for sure.

My Mom’s father died when I was little. I only remember him at the wake. 😔 And he opening his arms on the front porch as we arrived once. I was very little. Sofía, my Mother’s mom, also influenced me, but she lived far, and we did not see her as often, which is why I don’t remember my grandfather much before he died. Sofía (Mami Fía to us) was the one who called my father James.

I still want to ‘show my grandfather’ who I am. (As if he didn’t know?)

This is a tribute to them . . . what is this?

I would like to say, even if in a whisper, me. I want to be a tribute to them, if possible.

they are in everything i write