Grandparent Stories Contest Entry: How @cynshineonline Was Devastated By Watching Someone She Barely Knew Die

---

I come from a huge Colombian family...

My mother is the second oldest of 12. My father is the only boy of 4.

I am an only child and grew up in Florida far away from all of them. It was just my mother and me. I never knew 3 of my grandparents as they were dead by the time I was born.

The one surviving grandfather, Chepito, lived in New York but he moved to Florida briefly when I was 11. My mom and I drove there a few times but he was still 3 hours away from us.

Chepito was funny, smart, creative (he made puppets and dolls by hand) and he was a music teacher.

But I didn't spend any real time with him until I was 21 years old and he was dying.

---

I had a 2-year-old child by then and no job...

I was living with my parents while going to University. And when Chepito got sick my mother asked me if I would move to up north to help one of my aunts take care of him.

I only said yes because I hated Florida and I figured I should get to know him before he passed away. He was my only surviving grandparent so I figured it was my last chance to get to know him. So I moved in with my aunt and uncle who were taking care of him.

Chepito had prostate cancer and spoke no English. I understand Spanish perfectly but my verbal communication was weak (my written was even worse lol). But I spent time watching novellas with Chepito and getting to know him over the course of the summer.

He was witty and made me laugh a lot. He loved music, even my modern music that caused my mother to yell at me to turn it down constantly. He said it was "cool" (I taught him that word lol). He taught me how to make 'cafesito' and he taught me how to play the flute.

My entire family is musical and at that point, I was the only one that didn't play an instrument and he thought that was horrific. So he spent time teaching me and it was amazing.

I got to learn from a music master.

And he taught me more than that. He taught me that it was ok to love music and to have fun with it. Even if I wasn't going to play in an orchestra like most of my aunts and cousins, that I could still play for fun.

---

One day he fell out of bed when I was going upstairs to bring him his 'cafesito' and that was the last day he was lucid.

He looked up at me from the floor and said "Niña, por favor ayúdame a levantarme. No quiero morir aquí en el suelo junto a estas motas de polvo bajo la cama que tu tía no ha aspirado. (Little girl, please help me up. I don't want to die here on the floor next to these specks of dust under the bed that your aunt hasn't vacuumed.)

I was scared because I couldn't lift him, though I tried. Between me, my aunt, and uncle we got him up and back into bed.

Then the ambulance arrived and took him to the hospital.

He spent 2 weeks there. My aunt and I spent as much time with him as the hospital allowed, all the while hoping he would improve and we could take him home again.

But they told us he would never go home again.

I was infuriated because how could I lose my grandfather already? I just got there! Didn't they know that I was just starting to get to know him?!?!

Soon after they called us in the middle of the night, his breathing was labored and he would pass away before the day was over.

My aunt and I hurried there and he was all bloated. I thought he was already dead. But he was still breathing but the breaths were coming super far apart.

We stood on either side of him and each of us held one of his hands. I looked at my aunt, she had tears streaming down her face. I had seen a dead body once when I was a candy striper but never this close and never someone I loved.

I don't know how long we stood there but I do remember his last breath.

It came out shaky, and so so tiny.

And I knew before the nurse came and confirmed it that he was gone.

I was devastated. I barely knew this man but he was my family. He was the 'famous' Chepito that my mother spoke so highly of all of my life. The man who taught my family to love music. The reason why my own daughter, at 2, was learning to play the piano on her own.

And now I would no longer get to sit and watch novellas with him as we laughed and yelled at the TV.

---

The summer was over and my last grandparent was gone.

I feel so blessed to have spent that time with him. So grateful to get to know him AND my aunt and uncle who I barely knew before that.

My mother had been taking care of my daughter and arrived the next day for the funeral.

I felt so sad but yet happy and honored at the same time that I was able to be there when he left this world. And I wouldn't change that experience for anything. I know he would be proud of the woman that I've become. That I learned to love music and learned to have fun with it just like he did.

~Love, Cyn