Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Today is one of those days that make me feel very melancholic.  Thirty two years ago my grandmother Amparo died tragically in a car accident on a highway in Spain.  My sister and I were spending a month in Mexico City with our cousins while my parents, brother, and grandmother had flown to Madrid.  The purpose of the trip was to take my grandmother back home to Gijon, Asturias after she had spent the better part of a year with us.  She had undergone open heart surgery here in the US and the recovery period afterwards was spent with us.  I was only fourteen years old and I remember that it was a wonderful time spent with her.  She was looking forward to seeing my grandfather once again after the difficult time with her surgery.  I believe that my grandfather was also happy to have her back since he had spent that entire time alone in Spain.

Well, much to our misfortune the road to Gijon from Madrid was wet with a light drizzle.  I don't know if it is fair to lay blame on anyone or if it was just a sad and tragic accident.  The facts are that my dad, much younger then, offered to drive.  My grandfather, always in charge and not wanting to give up that authority decided against it.  They stopped for a family lunch not far from Segovia and my grandfather's rule of always sleeping in the car for about an hour after eating was quickly discarded by him.  Why?  Only God knows.  The sad truth is that shortly after eating they all got into the car and started to drive on the highway to Asturias.  My dad was uneasy because he could tell that my grandfather was a bit tired and not fully rested.  Also, my grandfather had wine with his meal as it was customary for him.  Nothing unusual since this was very common in Spain, although nowadays the police has really cracked down on drinking and driving.  My grandfather at the helm, decided to pass a slower truck in front of him.  As he was passing he realized that a much faster car was already coming from behind  trying to pass him.  He over reacted by trying to pull back into his lane but due to the slick road he lost control.  The car went out of control, sliding from one side of the highway to another destroying the metal barriers and the car as well.  The final blow that killed my grandmother was the car finally flipping over in the grass median and landing on its roof as it slid to a stop between the oncoming lanes and the lane where my grandfather was driving.  Everyone in the car was banged up but no serious injuries except for my grandmother's.  She was just too frail to sustain such a violent blow.  If memory serves me I think that she was killed instantly.  I got to see a picture of the car afterwards and it looked completely demolished.  I am always astounded that I did not lose my parents, brother and grandfather as well that day.  It's really hard to bring these memories back up.

I miss her.  I have missed her all these years and I remember her fondly.  She was always fiercely protective of us as we were her only grandchildren.  We all grew up living together in the same house in Gijon and I have nothing but wonderful memories of her.  Always loving towards us and she would do anything to please us.  I believe that we brought a joy to her that only grand children can.  My dad being an only son was intensely attached to her.  We all loved her greatly.  She was from Merida, Mexico and she exemplified the typical Mexican grandma.  I know that my father's relationship with his father was forever damaged after this tragedy.  The relationship had never been good between them for numerous reasons but I know that my dad has always blamed his father for my grandmother's death.  My grandfather has since passed away and I think that my dad has probably made his peace with him.  Only he can answer that question.  One thing that I do know is that my grandfather, never one to show emotion or too much affection, as he was in his last days of life in Gijon back in February of 2006, would call out to her "Amparito, Amparito..."  I hope that they are both together and that one day I will see them again when my time comes.  Os echo de menos a los dos.