It?s been a rough week. Beyond just the normal everyday stress of life, I?ve been on a rollercoaster ride of emotions this week. You see, last Saturday I got the call from my mother that I should come home to Houston as soon as I could. Grandma was asking for me.
?She wants to say goodbye? was what I was told.
I thought of the many ramifications of what may have been the meaning of these words, all of which was denial because I knew deep down inside what Grandma meant. She was dying and was ready to go and she just wanted me and all my brothers, sisters, cousins? her entire family? to know she was okay by it all. She was holding on because she wanted to see us all one last time. I was one of the few who did not live in Houston any more, so she specifically asked for me and several others to come home. One last time at least. I was lucky; I lived only two short hours away from Grandma?s house. The drive this night seemed like an eternity. Several of my cousins needed to make the trip from California and Illinois and some chose to drive. I thought about them for a few minutes while closing in on my destination of Houston. ?God, let Grandma hold on so they can arrive in time? please Lord!? My Grandma was wise though, she sent them word first before anybody else to let them know she didn?t feel she would stay alive for much longer, so if they could, come home.
So I arrived in Houston late Saturday night, same city I?ve known for much of my life. The city that I secretly adore and can?t wait to leave all in the same emotion. Odd I know, but the reality for me as my life has taken turns in the recent past to make my new home Austin. But I lived in Houston for most of my life, I grew up here. I still hold much in terms of emotional ties to this great city, including my love for the local baseball nine: The Houston Astros. The greatest tie of course is family. Interwoven to that tie is the Astros, so it?s interesting how that is. In fact, it is not lost to me that Grandma lived in the very shadows of Minute Maid Park, and quite often, parking at Grandma?s house to walk to Minute Maid was the order of the day. I did it, we all did it, and all blessed with a smile and a wave from Grandma that no parking lot attendant could ever match. I looked forward to the same being the case for the 2007 season. Now my mind raced with the situation at hand, Grandma wasn?t going to be around much longer, so it?s time to deal with it. I wasn?t ready for it to be so, but time is no respecter of man.
I stopped for a few minutes to gas up the car while still on the outskirts of Houston. I decided I needed some fresh air too. In that moment my Mother called again. ?Are you in town yet?? was the question. ?I?m here? was my reply ?I?m only a few minutes away. How is Grandma?? ?She?s not doing well, but she is anxious to see you. Come quickly.? So I made up my mind I had enough gas now and stopped the pump, got my receipt and headed to her house. As I passed the great skyline of the Houston horizon, I noticed the lonely Minute Maid Park. In a very short time, this great stadium will be filled with fans cheering on the Astros. One less television watching fan would be the unfortunate circumstance we were all facing. Grandma never missed a game on television since she could no longer attend the games in person. She had become an avid baseball fan and also a Houston Astros fan because of the love of the game by her sons and sons-in-law. One of those son-in-laws was my father who did his part well to impart his passion for the game her way. In a very short time, she didn?t need anyone to teach her this great game, she was a full fledge, 100% fan and the Astros were her team. She was a faithful Astros fan.
She also loved to go watch her grandkids play. I?ll admit that I wasn?t the greatest of the ball players on the field, but Grandma loved each of us equally and her cheering was never diminished for any one of us. There was the one time all her grandkids formed an amateur barnstorming team. Misguided as we were, Grandma still came out to cheer us on. The coaches for the team were my uncles and dad. Over at the third base coaching box was my Uncle Arturo (or ?Pato? as he was known in his playing days). One of my fondest memories of playing that one season as a family team was our game versus the Blue Jays one bright Sunday afternoon. The Blue Jays were coached by a former player who barnstormed with my Dad and uncles back in the day. It was a friendly rival game for sure, as my uncles and dad traded barbs and quips with the opposing manager. As the game went on, the intensity grew. Neither side wanted to lose this game, even though the Blue Jays were the much better team talent-wise. But we had heart and Grandma on our side. Bottom of the ninth, one out, man on third and second base and we?re losing by one run. I?m the guy up to bat. I had a pretty good season hitting the ball, but I was afraid maybe I was a little tight gripping the bat right now. ?Relax? I said, something that was much easier said than done. I wanted to win this game right here and right now. I wanted to see how Yogi, the opposing manager, would look once he had to swallow a ton of humble pie for all the smack he had been running at us all day. I get ready to step into the box, thinking to myself ?Stay back, see the ball? hit it hard, make them make the play?, all things I thought would help me right this moment. As I step in, the deep bellow from the umpire comes my way ?TIME OUT!? I?m perplexed for a second and then realize ?Pato? is walking towards me to confer. ?Not now!? I say under my breath, as I reluctantly walk towards him to see if he had any smart thing to say to me at this moment. Then I think to myself ?Oh no, what if he wants to squeeze right here? bad idea, Yogi is never surprised by these sort of plays!? I lean down to be at ear level with coach, the tension a bit much as we both take just a deep breath. Then from the stands, comes the voice of Grandma to break the silence ?Don?t listen to him, Noe? that is my son, I know what I?m talking about? don?t listen to him!? I chuckle, ?Pato? never says a word but pats me on the back, the opposing pitcher smiles, the bench is laughing and the stands are all in good cheer. I look to Grandma and she gives me the universal hit away sign by putting both hands together and mocking a bat swing. She was left handed! Who knew! So I step in, the pitcher goes for the inside corner with a fastball, but I?m ready and smash the ball to the hole between third and short. The third baseman makes a miraculous stop of the ball diving to his left. The runner at third took off at the sound of the bat as he should, so the only play left was at first to secure the out. Tying run scores, but the throw was a bit off to the first baseman?s right. The runner at second never stopped running when he saw the first baseman have to lean heavily to his right to catch the ball to record the out. He runs all the way home, just beating the ball as he slides safely. My dad is coaching first base and he looks at me as I was walking back down the line towards our dugout. ?We won?? I ask. ?Yeah,? says my dad ?Looks like everybody listened to Grandma and did not pay attention to Pato?s signs. Good thing, eh?? We laughed and soon joined the celebration at home.
I arrived to Grandma?s house a little before 10 at night. I walked passed all the people gathered, many well wishers and friends from within the little second ward community. Some of my brothers and sisters were already huddled around her, and my Mom was at the foot of her bed. ?Mijo, you?re here! Aqui esta Noe, mama? ya llego!? I knelt beside her bed, now wanting to unleash the tears that I had held back the entire trip. Grandma looked weak and frail, not the same woman I had known all my life. She was, as she put it, ready and willing to pass on. Life had finally taken its toll on her and she wasn?t going to expend any more energy to hang on. There was no need in her opinion, she had a full life at 95, never spending one day alone, always surrounded by her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. I wanted to look away, so Grandma wouldn?t see me cry, but it was too late. I felt the release of all my fears washing down my cheeks, but I also was blessed by the look of compassion my Grandma had on her face. ?Tu esposa? (Your wife?)? She asked. ?She?s sick right now, she couldn?t come? but I?m here? I replied. ?Ya me voy? cuida a tu familia, los quiero mucho." She held on to see me and the others to give each one of us the attention she felt we all needed. So each one got a special blessing that night.
The next morning, as I awoke to drink some coffee, the call came to my sister?s house where I was staying that Grandma had died. Take care of your family she told me the night before and here I was away from them. How ironic, but she knew I would honor her request as much as I humanly could do. It was as if she was giving me the hit away sign for life: It?s all about family, mijo! I cried a little, finished my coffee, showered, got dressed and went home to Austin to hug my family.
Thanks Grandma!
