Life Lessons
19 years ago today, we lost a guy whose shoes were just too big to fill. He was someone I respected and loved. He helped seed important things in me like morale and drive, as well as the fun things like pranks and that unique "Castro" sense of humor. I spent most of my 11-year-old summer with him, his last summer here on this earth and it changed me in many ways. Maybe at the time I was blind to what that summer really consisted of. Being only 11, and not fully grasping what such a loss would be like and how much things would really change.
If you knew my Grandfather, you would understand how much of the gravitational pull he was in our family. Was he a perfect man? Of course not, there are no perfect beings; but man did he love with all his being! My favorite memories consist of Cape Cod, Fall River bakeries, summer evenings at random outdoor concerts and holidays which were filled with food, fun, family and not much elbow room! I loved listening to him speak Portuguese with his old friends at the feast. I loved the crows feet that became so prominent when he smiled or laughed, I miss that laugh. His favorite joke that he used, probably daily, was "I see says the blind man, when he couldn't even see at all." For whatever reason it cracked me up every time and he always followed it with "you like that one, huh?" Any time we walked in, it was a ritual to walk to his chair to sit on his lap and be smothered with hugs and kisses and being told how much he loves all his kids and grandkids; leaving consisted of pretty much the same, haha! No matter what we were doing, he was happiest when we were all together. The last time I saw him as his happy self, was at an outdoor concert at La Salette where a woman sang Mariah Carey's "Hero", I remember singing along and him giving me that big smile. Happy memories are such a beautiful gift.
While I was in the know as far as my Grandfather being diagnosed with cancer, the reality of it didn't being sinking in until the day we picked him up from an appointment and he was too sick to stay seated and needed to lay down in the back seat of his van. He was usually driving or next to my dad in the passenger seat telling him where to go ;) It was a very quiet ride, and just felt different. After that whenever we would visit, he was usually sleeping on the couch (still with his pant legs rolled up, and black socks up his shins.. haha) but it was just so quiet. This is where things went down hill quite fast. Visits began to consist of helping Grandma around the house, or my mom and I staying at the house while my Aunts would take her grocery shopping. The smothering kisses turned in to a gentle hug and peck on the cheek and no longer in the front room but the parlor. I remember the last conversation I had with him, where he was sitting, what he had on, what was on TV, the way he looked and the words we exchanged. I never knew him to candy coat anything, so as the words "How are you feeling?" escaped my mouth I so badly wanted to take them back. I held my breath as he took one in "Not good Jack-u-lyn (he always said my name that way), not good." That's when I knew the tides were changing forever.
I never missed a minute of being there when I could, anytime my mom would go over, I would be there. I met all the nurses from hospice, though they offered to counsel me I refused. I wanted nothing more than to just sit and be there to help take care of him, little did I realize my helping was healing me before I even felt the pain. I was learning life lessons that cannot be taught in text. I learned the love and commitment between husband and wife, as I watched my Grandmother become his sole caretaker. I learned about the bond between children and their parents as my Aunts and Uncles pulled together to take care of both my Grandparents. I learned and experienced the true strength of love and family (blood or not), it doesn't fix everything but it makes coping much more easy. I learned to be attentive, I learned to be strong, and I learned that beauty doesn't lie in only happy memories, but also in the dark ones. I didn't have a lot to say, but I made sure to talk to my Grandfather every day even though he was in a medically induced coma. I wasn't really sure if he heard me, until this one time I went to wet his lips with a small sponge and he grabbed it with his lips for a minute, and I'm pretty sure he smirked when he let go. It made me giggle, and I felt relieved to see a little bit of his personality shine through. The last words he spoke the day before he passed away was "I love you", as almost all of his kids and his wife (and me peeking over the half-wall) were standing around him. The next day my dad took a group of us kids to the circus, I didn't really want to go.. but would understand why I was told I had to. On the way home my dad got the call that my Grandfather was at peace, I was angry and felt guilty for not being there. Being older now, I can see it's better that I wasn't, for my last memory of him was his eyes opened saying "I love you." It's a beautiful blessing I received, that was my God given peace in the midst of the storm and was also the beginning of my salvation story. But that's for another time.
19 years, and I still miss you everyday.. but the things you left me with have been a legacy of love, and will live on for generations. Love you <3
**In memory of Raymond O Castro Sr** October 11, 1926- August 26, 1995
If you knew my Grandfather, you would understand how much of the gravitational pull he was in our family. Was he a perfect man? Of course not, there are no perfect beings; but man did he love with all his being! My favorite memories consist of Cape Cod, Fall River bakeries, summer evenings at random outdoor concerts and holidays which were filled with food, fun, family and not much elbow room! I loved listening to him speak Portuguese with his old friends at the feast. I loved the crows feet that became so prominent when he smiled or laughed, I miss that laugh. His favorite joke that he used, probably daily, was "I see says the blind man, when he couldn't even see at all." For whatever reason it cracked me up every time and he always followed it with "you like that one, huh?" Any time we walked in, it was a ritual to walk to his chair to sit on his lap and be smothered with hugs and kisses and being told how much he loves all his kids and grandkids; leaving consisted of pretty much the same, haha! No matter what we were doing, he was happiest when we were all together. The last time I saw him as his happy self, was at an outdoor concert at La Salette where a woman sang Mariah Carey's "Hero", I remember singing along and him giving me that big smile. Happy memories are such a beautiful gift.
While I was in the know as far as my Grandfather being diagnosed with cancer, the reality of it didn't being sinking in until the day we picked him up from an appointment and he was too sick to stay seated and needed to lay down in the back seat of his van. He was usually driving or next to my dad in the passenger seat telling him where to go ;) It was a very quiet ride, and just felt different. After that whenever we would visit, he was usually sleeping on the couch (still with his pant legs rolled up, and black socks up his shins.. haha) but it was just so quiet. This is where things went down hill quite fast. Visits began to consist of helping Grandma around the house, or my mom and I staying at the house while my Aunts would take her grocery shopping. The smothering kisses turned in to a gentle hug and peck on the cheek and no longer in the front room but the parlor. I remember the last conversation I had with him, where he was sitting, what he had on, what was on TV, the way he looked and the words we exchanged. I never knew him to candy coat anything, so as the words "How are you feeling?" escaped my mouth I so badly wanted to take them back. I held my breath as he took one in "Not good Jack-u-lyn (he always said my name that way), not good." That's when I knew the tides were changing forever.
I never missed a minute of being there when I could, anytime my mom would go over, I would be there. I met all the nurses from hospice, though they offered to counsel me I refused. I wanted nothing more than to just sit and be there to help take care of him, little did I realize my helping was healing me before I even felt the pain. I was learning life lessons that cannot be taught in text. I learned the love and commitment between husband and wife, as I watched my Grandmother become his sole caretaker. I learned about the bond between children and their parents as my Aunts and Uncles pulled together to take care of both my Grandparents. I learned and experienced the true strength of love and family (blood or not), it doesn't fix everything but it makes coping much more easy. I learned to be attentive, I learned to be strong, and I learned that beauty doesn't lie in only happy memories, but also in the dark ones. I didn't have a lot to say, but I made sure to talk to my Grandfather every day even though he was in a medically induced coma. I wasn't really sure if he heard me, until this one time I went to wet his lips with a small sponge and he grabbed it with his lips for a minute, and I'm pretty sure he smirked when he let go. It made me giggle, and I felt relieved to see a little bit of his personality shine through. The last words he spoke the day before he passed away was "I love you", as almost all of his kids and his wife (and me peeking over the half-wall) were standing around him. The next day my dad took a group of us kids to the circus, I didn't really want to go.. but would understand why I was told I had to. On the way home my dad got the call that my Grandfather was at peace, I was angry and felt guilty for not being there. Being older now, I can see it's better that I wasn't, for my last memory of him was his eyes opened saying "I love you." It's a beautiful blessing I received, that was my God given peace in the midst of the storm and was also the beginning of my salvation story. But that's for another time.
19 years, and I still miss you everyday.. but the things you left me with have been a legacy of love, and will live on for generations. Love you <3
**In memory of Raymond O Castro Sr** October 11, 1926- August 26, 1995
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