My grandmother, a Caguas farm girl, who was a descendant of rebels and indigenous people, inherited their spirit when she left her step mothers abusive home to live with her grandmother and her sisters. It was there that she met my grandfather who swept her away to Manhattan. Yet not speaking a word of English and in a completely foreign environment, they planted there roots, started a family, and had 7 children. That was the beginning….
They were non traditional parents in the sense that though God was very important they weren’t very strict in there Christian faith. If anything my grandmother leaned more toward being a believer in the “Espiritista” or the spiritualist way of being that she learned from her grandmother and her great aunts. A belief of healing with herbs and praying to God, the Saints, and our ancestors for there help, guidance, and protection. A belief and way of being that she instilled in her children and in me.
Unfortunately her husband passed away while most of their children were still very young, leaving my grandmother to fend for herself. But once again that rebellious sprit gave her the strength she needed because instead of ending up on the street or in a asylum, my grandmother got 2 jobs, learned English, and somehow raised all 7 children on her own.
Raising them in New York, the melting pot of the world, they became more culturally intermingled in their upbringing, but because of the racist attitudes of that time, like everyone else they had to adapt to the American or more precisely “White” culture in order to survive in the public eye. Yet even though the pressures of society would have preferred for them to hide who they were, most of them wore there heritage proudly because of the way they were raised.
Both my grandparents taught them the ways of their culture, but it was my grandmother who taught them about what you would call the roots of our culture. She also instilled in them one of the most important parts of our culture, a very strong Puerto Rican ideology which is the unity of family and what it means to be family.
She made sure each of her children grew up as unique individuals, with the freedoms that come from being brought up in the states, but no matter how different each one was, they all shared a similar understanding of faith and never forgot to come to together for every holiday, birthday, or special occasion, and that was something my grandmother always made sure they never lost.
She was a major part of everyone’s lives including mine. I was lucky enough to be raised around her for almost all of my childhood and she gave me the same foundation she gave her children. Even though I am a second generation Puerto Rican who speaks very little Spanish, thanks to her teachings, I feel like a first. So when she suddenly passed away, it was not just the loss of a person but the loss of our family’s foundation.
It happened a month before my senor year in high school and her sudden death shook me to my very core, but what I didn’t see coming was the effect it would have on my family and on myself.
We became out of balance. The person we all relied on heavily was no longer with us, and the affects were not only emotional but physical. My aunts and uncles lost their mother, the person who was always there to keep them steady, who helped to look after there children when they worked, and not having the funds to pay for a nanny that meant having to cut hours or even possibly quitting there jobs. No one could afford to do any of that without losing everything else.
Watching this from the sidelines and seeing my family slowly beginning to fall apart, I realized unlike them, I had a choice. I knew what I could do, but it became what I had to do, what my grandmother would have done, and being the eldest of my cousins, I left school and became the family nanny. What I didn’t realize was that in doing that, in sacrificing my education, I had become more then just a nanny.
I became the new teacher, the new confidant, the new friend to not only my cousins who now became like my brothers, but surprisingly to my uncles and aunts as well. I also became the new spiritual center of the family, having learned some of the ways of being from my grandmother, but also on my own, I began to guide and protect those I loved.
I had always been like a daughter to each of my aunts and uncles, but because of what I had done, I became more like a sibling and had earned the right to sit at the metaphorical “elders table”.
Over the years I helped raise and watch my cousins grow, each one now my brothers but also like my children, helping them with their schooling when necessary, and with joy I watched most of them get into collage. I helped my aunts and uncles through crises, celebrated their joys, shared in their sorrows, but also helped them embrace there roles as the new elders of the family.
I didn’t see any of these changes happen. I knew my role had changed in the family when I noticed how I was being treated differently, but not the bigger picture. I just accepted it for what it was and was happy anytime someone needed my help. I didn’t realize what I had truly done and the impact I had made until recently, when my family made me take a step back and see exactly where I stood, what roles I play and how everyone depends on me.
I am part of every holiday, every special occasion, I am asked my opinion on every big decision, and when I speak, people truly listen. So much so that when my aunt finally met a man who she could see herself marrying, to my continued surprise and honor, she sought my approval.
I had spent most of my life feeling lost, less then, feeling like a looser, like I hadn’t accomplished anything because I wasn’t in the same place, or doing the same things as other people my age. But my family helped me see the truth. They helped me see how much I had truly done, how I had helped hold everyone together, how I had become the new center of our clan, and for the first time I truly saw myself.
I cried hard that day and though there are other things I have to accomplish for me to continue my journey, for the first time in my life, I am proud of who I am and the path I chose to take.
My grandmother taught me the importance of family and of endurance of sprit by both seeing how she lived her life, and by what she taught me. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have the strong closely connected family that I have, and without her I don’t think I would have had the courage to make the decision I did to leave school. She was the glue that held us all together. She was a grandmother, a mother, a teacher, a guide, a friend, and she was the one who taught me what it meant to be a part of a true family.
I took on her mantel, something I don’t believe I have the right to wear, but my family seems to think differently. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and somehow they see that strength in me.
I will strive to be worthy of the faith they have placed in me and who knows, maybe they’re right. After all, I was named after her….
Ok...so I am gonna mention the break-up one more time, but only because it's relevant to the subject of this post.
