“Grandma.”

 I had dreams of becoming a baseball player, but was only able to play for a couple of seasons. I remember a couple of fishing trips with my dad as well, but that was the extent of it. The time I got to spend with my Grandma are my best memories, and to go just for the weekend was heaven, it was like my little oasis in hell. My aunt, uncle and my cousins all lived there with her, and I was really close to them. When I was over there, I felt like I was normal. I finally got to be a normal kid. I remember Monday through Friday, I would try my absolute hardest to be on my best behavior, do anything and everything I could to help my dad out. Having seven children and being the only parent was extremely difficult for him, and if my mom was in the picture, it would make things even more difficult. 

Once I hit 18, I moved out of my dad's house. I could not stand where I was living anymore, so I moved in with my Grandma. I spent a lot of time with her and like I mentioned, she was my true mom. She was born July 22, 1929, and I was born July 22, 1988. She would always say that my birth was her birthday present. My Grandma was the most important person to me and, she was the one person that I knew her love would never waiver, and I never questioned it. She loved me unconditionally; from the outset - all the way to the end. She was the kindest woman that you'd ever meet, and was the love of my life. She was the one woman I loved with all my heart. She went through a lot in her life, she was born in the Great Depression, went through World War II and the Zoot Suit Riots. She never drank, never smoked, never did any drugs; she was a faithful Catholic woman, always with a rosary in her hand, praying every day. The motherly love and the nurture that she showed me, was something that I had been craving my entire life - just to have that attention. I've never really known what love was in a female sense, and the only place that I ever got it, was from my Grandma.

She recently passed away on August 20th, 2020. I had an extreme feeling of guilt that I probably expedited her death because of my incarceration, and that I wasn't there for her. She worried so much about me, I was her baby. Everybody knew that I was her baby. I know I could have given her more time on this planet if it wasn't for my incarceration. I know death is inevitable, I know it comes with age. They get older, they're less agile, they start to shuffle their feet.

I never told her what I was locked up for, I just kept telling her “I'll be home soon mom,” knowing damn well in the back of my mind, I ain't going to get out anytime soon. I did the math, I knew I wasn't going to get out. She ended up falling down in the shower and breaking her hips, and in Mexican culture, they refuse to go and see a doctor, and my Grandma was extremely obstinate and stubborn. She eventually got surgery, and older people don't heal from surgery as well as we young bucks do. I was just really glad and blessed that my dad brought her up to see me six months before she passed. I think she was starting to get dementia. I just remember one time I called, and I was able to see her on FaceTime and that explained everything to me. That was their way of showing me the reality of the situation. I seen the deterioration of her, and it's forever imprinted in my mind. Her mind was in and out. I realized immediately that dire circumstances were near, and they were knocking on the doorstep. But when I said “Ma,” and it was just like she was looking around, she automatically knew whose voice that was, and it was like she was holding on just to hear my voice. She then passed away two days later. 

Being in prison, I haven't grieved, you can't show no emotions here. It’s like being in a big ass pool with just a bunch of sharks. Any little bit of emotion, the wrong type of emotion, is weakness. It’s symbolic as a drop of blood in a tank full of sharks. It's more of an out of sight, out of mind type thing. That is probably one of the biggest quotes that I use a lot, because it really works. Whatever you apply the mind to, it will work, and I know it's not a healthy way to deal with things, but where I'm at right now, the environment that I'm in, requires it. 

The beautiful thing about it, or I guess the silver lining, is my Grandma wasn't scared of death. She would tell me “I lived a good life.” She would say, “when it's my time, it's my time.” She was actually looking forward to going into heaven. I know she wasn't scared, and she died in a peaceful way in her sleep.