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Wednesday, September 12, 2012


My father died a bunch of years ago on September 13.

Papi was an engineer by trade, studied subjects like electricity and mechanics during his university days. He was an incredibly intelligent man, and I'm not bragging here. If he got it into his head to do something, he would do it, and involved everyone else.

I was born into a very funny and creative family.

One time he and his brothers spent several hours playing with a sewing machine, tailoring a man's shirt. It was an art to master.

Another time they got it into their heads that the family hamster wheel was not terribly efficient and added ball bearings to the whole shebang, yelling "Eureka!" soon as they thought they had discovered a new system for generating energy.

And let's not forget the day he borrowed all the blankets my mother owned to cover the walls of the living room, the better to absorb the sound and improve the acoustics for the new stereo system with which we all listened to Beethoven's Ninth.

Today I find myself thinking about all these things and then some, grateful that I was fortunate enough to be this guy's daughter and the niece of his siblings.


Amen, and to the men and women who are my cousins because we are the sons and daughters of Manolo, Antonio, Ignacio, Emilio, Lily, Dario and Olga, guys, we are millionaires.

1 comment:

LynnT said...

My last memory of the man I knew of as Grandpa Cabrera, is bittersweet. We visited one day in Bristol when he was near the end. He looked at me and smiled and said "I love you, Lynn". He had a distinct way of saying my name with that accent of his, and I can still hear it in my mind. I hate that he died, but love how even in his suffering, he still made me feel special. He was a wonderful grandpa, and I always felt loved and accepted. We were his grandkids, though biology was never involved.

Hugs, Auntie!