Mi abuela

Mi abuela played a central role to me. She was my ultimate symbol for “familism”, the notion that family is at the center of everything and that the bonds should be supportive, close, and unbreakable.

Her children circled around her, building their homes miles away from each other so that all of us could go back and forth eating at any house that had food. But, it is her home that holds the sweetest memories. If I try hard enough, I can close my eyes and hear all of the yelling, laughter, food boiling, chickens clucking, and kids running.

It’s a part of my culture that I have come to absolutely love, yet like everything else I know there are many layers to peel.

We learned to build everlasting roots with those we call family, and inadvertently whisper harmful messages that the family’s needs go above our own.

Because we hold on so tightly, we pass on unhealed pain back and forth creating toxic environments. We label some behaviors “parte de la cultura” (part of the culture) yet I know they are trauma responses that can have very hurtful and lasting effects on generations to come.

I recognize this, I work to help my clients to overcome and break these generational traumas, AND I work hard to recognize it within myself. In part because OF and FOR mi abuela.

I am grateful for the family mi abuela gave me, and I recognize all the areas I have to heal for her legacy and for the generational wealth of my children, who ALL bear HER name.

Mi abuela the matriarch

 If I close my eyes long enough, I can hear her chanclas sliding across the floor at 5 am, followed by the flick of the lights turning on in every room that she passed. It didn’t matter who was still sleeping. I hear her fumbling around in the kitchen with silverware and plates, and then I hear the heavy wooden iron door being open to let the dog in. “venga para que coma algito”, she would say (“come so you can eat something”).

I can also smell the coffee. Matter of fact, I can see the filter sock dripping drop by drop. To this day I dislike the taste of coffee but love the smell of it for its a core memory of my abuela.

She was the life of that home. Everything revolving around her. My grandfather would remember to shower, eat, and drink because of her. There was love because of her. There was laughter because of her. There has also been tears, difficult moments, and hard work in that home. When anyone was sick, she would walk to her backyard and come back with some plant that would cure all ailments. She mothered and grandmothered about 3-4 generations of people.

I wish my grandmother would have prioritized her rest more. I wish she would have been given a chance to formulate her own wishes and desires. I wish she would have gotten a chance to process all of her unsaid pain and walk towards joy. I wish she would have resolved all of her uncovered grief. I wish I would be able to hear more of her stories. 

The best way I can describe my grandmother is as a woman full of strength and softness in one. With a temper that could fight and love fiercely all in one heart.   If I could go back, I would tell her she was the most important figure in our family and that because of her sacrifices, my generation is able to work towards healing, freedom, and joy.

Mi abuela is my ancestor and I wish so much to hear all of her stories again.