What do you do when a family member suddenly passes away? Do you stay frozen at the desk of your internship? Do you go to the bathroom and cry your eyes out? Do you wipe your tears and straighten out your hair so your coworkers won't hear your muffled cries, or do you go straight home and curl in a ball?
Unfortunately, those were my reactions when my uncle from Haiti called me and gave me the news that my grandpa passed away. A sharp pain instantly hit my heart, time stood still, he said something about funeral costs and then something about my dad, but I stayed numb.
He was more than just a family member -- he was my grandpa. In Creole I called him "Lepe." He lived his life as a farmer, but so young at heart. He never forgot to bring fresh eggs and mangoes on his visit. One time he even carried a live chicken all the way to the city in the back of his motorcycle.
How come these years went by so fast? He would never get to see the result of me chasing my American dream coming from a poor country? I would never have the chance to show him my English skills and I would never have the chance to say goodbye one more time.
I wanted to thank him for teaching me so much love, for teaching me to love, laugh and be a good person. He taught my dad to work hard, who had passed that on to me. He taught me to never, ever envy what others had, he taught me to wait my turn and he taught me to never take someone's trust for granted because that's the kind of a man he was, my lepe.
I wish I can go back being a little girl. I wish I was daring enough to take the adventure of finding his house in the mountains of Haiti that I had never been to. The only thing that is comforting me is the thought that if he were still alive, he would have been proud of me.
I hate when others know that I am hurting, because my dad did not raise me to be weak. But this is the only way I know how to pay tribute to him, when he is so far away. I can't seem not to be angry when I think of the fact that two hospitals turned him away because they were full after he suffered a stroke, and then he had to be driven in the back of the motorcycle since they could not find an ambulance.
Is it worth it to come to a country for a better life when your real self is not here and the people that know the real you will never be able to truly enjoy your success with you?
I hope I'm dreaming because I did not do enough. This is the first time I've ever had to grieve someone that is so close to home. The timing is off, the semester is two weeks away, my mother is still recovering from her accident and I am accepting my faith in life of always being the girl with the obstacles.
My grandpa would tell me to keep going because he never gave up, and I know he held on as long as he could. I am sorry that I wasn't there and I am sorry that you passed away thinking that you would never see your Sosso (my Haitian nickname) again.
The shirt that I put over my mouth to stop me from crying is not doing much. I am writing this so people can know about you and pay tribute to you because Lord knows you deserve it.
Lutess Mondesi, day of passing, 8/15/2016
