We Called Him George
We Called Him George
For the memory of my late grand father Mr. Adriano Grande Rivera…
Exactly 12:00 am of December 18, 2003 he took his last breath and passed away at Amang Rodriguez Hospital
My grand father that we called "tatay" (father in English) of all his grand children was a furniture painter. He became a guerilla before during a Japanese invasion. An authoritarian man according to his children who punished them for every mistake that they done. He changed for his grand children, different in the story of his own children. He's the first person teach us how to ride a bicycle. Being an eldest grand daughter I became closest to him. I remembered when we're small we putted our sock on there Christmas tree and the other day he will full it of coins and candies. A time he will cook fried rice in the morning and he will call all of us to eat. Sunday's that he's going to a cock fighting game, and when he won he will give us some "balato" (money from winning a game) and a dead cock that we will cook for lunch.
When he resigned in his work, he became more alcoholic who liked especially San Miguel beer. I hated him every weekends that visiting our house and sleep for us for two days. He will drink and drunk and after he will talk too much that I don’t like. A year after they transfer in the same place we're living. In the morning I like visiting him because I'd like to share with him his breakfast. Years came that made him more old and his eyes was became more blurred but not a barrier for him to read an every day tabloid. Almost every day I'm in his house and chatting with him, a story of his younger years, World War II, how he studied, and a lot more. His older grand children including me called him George when his giving an advice for us or making joke for him. According to them he got a George name from his American employer before.
A day we noticed that he always massages his chest and kicked his feet. We didn’t give to much burden on that maybe its normal for a person whose getting old. Even his Robotic walk didn’t alarm us, because he's not shouting for pain and didn’t ask for medical attention. For two years he keeps this for himself only and another morning he waked up that he cannot move his body. I saw him but I can't stay for a long time looking at him for that situation. My uncle rushed him in the hospital according to the doctor he has a severe stroke. His a man who’s not shouting for pain and being strong until to the end because he know that we don’t have enough money. After three days he returned to the house and can take rest but his situation is remain the same. After one day we rushed him again in the hospital and no chance to live only the medical oxygen was keeping him alive. My grand mother is besides him and saying prayers for him and she asked him "if you are tired you can leave us now" after that he took his last breath. All of us are waiting for his remains, inside on his white coffin I saw his face lying peacefully. I cried silently, and ask forgiveness for sometime being rude for him.
A week before he died, I remembered his asking a cigarette and a choco nut in our store that my mother don't like to give then say a word "A time I will die you will not give anymore". Still I feel his soft hand that once I touched when I'm cutting his nail, words that he's always tell for us. I feel regretful that he will not taste anymore the imported chocolate that I'm sending the things he wanted that I cannot give before.
Wherever you are "Tatay or George" I know you're happy for us and your memory and love will remain in all of our hearts. Here I wrote your favorite quote; “The debt of Pedro is for Pedro only it will never be with Juan”.
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