Perdonen que me he demorado tanto… después de la Navidad el año escolar se mueve más rápido.

To continue…after that Christmas party, my headaches seemed to go away. I returned to my usual schedule: class, karate, track, reading… My mom figured that maybe that first semester of 4th grade was too heavy…pero todo estaba bien ahora. Not really, the headaches went away for a while – but the problem was still there.

You know, after the Christmas break, the school year seems to fly by. I know that even more now that I am a teacher, then I did back when I was in fourth grade. To anyone who is dying to become an adult – POR FAVOR créeme, todo pasa más rápido que lo que crees. Really, everything does go by so fast! When you look back you wish you were still  insert age years old.

Did I ever tell you how curious I was? I wanted to know everything about everything that was going on around me. Did I mention that I was quite talkative…at times, a bit too talkative. The phrase, “NO FILTER” comes to mind. Don’t get the wrong picture…I was a very sweet, mostly obedient child – I just couldn’t see something wrong going on in front of me and stay quiet. And if I was asked a question, I would usually reply honestly and then think, “Oh, maybe I should have said that differently/not said that at all.” So, with that in mind…here is the story:

Yo no conocí a mi padre biológico hasta que tenía ocho años. La noche que lo conocí, conocí a mi abuela Mafi también.

I really don’t know what I was expecting that evening, when I met my biological father for the first time. I mean, I knew him when I was a toddler, but it’s not like I could remember anything then. I thought I’d be angry or maybe a bit dismal – but it was just like, “Hey, nice to know who you are.” His mother, Mafi, seemed like a very elegant lady. That was it – I really didn’t have anything to say to him or my grandmother ; I was more interested in going back to my tía’s bedroom and watching the novela. I did notice my grandmother was wearing a scarf. Panama is hot; and I really saw no need for a scarf. I think I was staring, because my abuela (my mom’s mom) came and stood behind me & gave me a look.  I then left with the box of chocolates they had brought me and continued to watch the novela.

Months went by, and towards the end of April 1991, my grandmother Mafi passed away. The scarf she wore was to cover up a scar…grandmother Mafi had died very painfully, but was finally resting in the Lord’s arms. My biological father, Tony, asked my mom if we could attend the wake. That night, when we arrived at the funeral home, my abuela hugged me. “No hables mucho, y si te preguntan si quieres ver a tu abuela – mejor mantén la imagen que tienes de ella del día que la conociste.” What did my abuela mean by, “keep the image you have of your grandmother”? Was I going to see grandmother Mafi? I had never been to a wake…what was going on?

As we walked in, my mother was saying hello to everyone. On a side-note: Tony’s wife was sitting in a corner all by herself, she didn’t seem to know anyone and looked pretty uncomfortable. She was very young and pretty – but before I could notice anything else, my Grandpa Tony walked right up to us.

“Chacha, perdimos a Mafi. Se nos fue. Hay Mafi…”

He seemed very sad, and then Grandpa Tony asked me if I wanted to see my grandmother. I looked back at my abuela, who shook her head in a “no” motion. I looked at my mom, who looked back at me wide–eyed but said nothing. I then looked at Grandpa Tony and said, yes.

The casket was up much higher than what I stood tall, so Grandpa Tony carried me. As I looked into the coffin, still in my Grandpa Tony’s arms, I saw my grandmother. She was a woman of a very fair skin, and at that moment, even more so. Grandmother Mafi had chocked on her own blood; and even though the person who’d done her make-up tried to hide it, the purple blood stained the lower portion of her face and depicted a small trail of the physical pain she had struggled with those final seconds of life. I was in such shock that my body leapt back, into my Grandpa Tony’s chest. I remember shaking my head, as if an eraser could delete the agonizing image I had witnessed.

The weeks after the wake were followed by excruciating headaches and moments I will never forget.