Remembering Tata

My grandfather died when I was in middle school. This is a picturee of me (left) and my sister Sarah (right) with him. He loved icecream. I remeber every time he came to visit he would drink his coffee and smoke a cigarette every morning. Sarah and I used to always tell him "caca" trying to tell him that it was bad for him. I remember at our young ages we were concerned about the smoking killing him. We didn't speak spanish and had no way to communicate with him other than gestures and reactions and the two or three words of spanish we knew. We loved him so much. Once when I was about 9 I made by hand a case for his glasses. It was a simple pouch sewn by hand with thread and yard. He loved it. I have never known someone my dad respected more in the entire world. Yes he respects my mother and his children, but the respect he had for his father was one of awe. I miss him and though I could wish my heart out he was still alive, I believe it was part of the plan. He was preceded to the other side by my grandmother, who he missed dearly. They are together now.