"My First Love"

           What can I say, I come from good genes!  On April 6, 1990 Enrique Lamelas, my wonderful,godly man of a Grandfather passed from here to the next step of his eternal progression where my beautiful grandmother awaited him. Born in Cuba in 1913 from immigrant parents from Spain and raised by a single parent, his mom, including one brother and one sister became –“my first love.

Five feet and 11”, with an envious caribbean suntanned skin, one deep blue eye and another, a spring grass green. Dark wavy hair, a warm inviting smile, thick heavy hands and a sharp dresser had many ladies swooning, including me!   He was my Don Amache, a 1930 actor who I had a crazy crush on when I was five years old, till I moved on to bigger and better lookers, Clark Gable.  There was something about these actors that made me see my grandpa’s image in them, most likely because of their that thin mustache and fresh clean look, the white suits and two-toned shoes. 

When I think of grandpa [everyday] there are immediate adjectives that come to mind. To help you catch a glimpse, here are a few. A hard, loyal worker, an unbelievable husband, brilliant mathematician, adoring and doting daddy, soft speaker, sensitive to the point of getting teary-eyed at a hungry cat,. Good cook, voracious eater, considered, slow to wrath, shy, a peacemaker, the softest facial skin, dominoes, Dodger games, black cuban expresso coffee and, a most giving, generous man.

   Grandpa pampered all of his girls, eight emotional women! How he endured this demanding role, I can only say it was pure love.  I once came across a grocery list he left by the night stand, a few of those items were, feminine napkins, Lorna Doone cookies [my favorite], black shoe shine, [for our school shoes], Juice fruit gum, and  “Old Spice” men’s aftershave [my favorite]  Oh my goodness, does that bring a multitude of odorous memories!  Now jus think for a moment, can you imagine a man buying Kotex!  I simply couldn’t believe my eyes as I read that! My Grandma, said she never had to purchase this very private item since they were married! And, this continued in regards to all us blossoming girls.  It embarrassed me, for him, not grandpa;  he would’ve eaten dirt for us!

         I wish I could tell you the myriad of things he taught me, things that all girls should get a taste of. However, I’m impressed to focus on his natural goodness which was never compulsive or forced but flowed gently as quiet hidden river. 

There’s a beautiful bible verse that has always reminded me of my gorgeous Abuelo. Let me preface this so you can get a better insight as to why this verse brings Grandpa to mind. This chapter, 2 Corinthians 3, is the apostle Paul writing an epistle [long, instructive letter] to the church members of Corinth, expressing his faith, testimony and what they need to focus on and liberty in Christ. Paul’s ministry extends  over 30 years!  To me, my grandfather was a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Here’s the overlooked verse:

3Forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ ministered by us, ^awritten not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not in ^btables of stone, but in ^cfleshy tables of the ^dheart.

The sentence “but with the Spirit of the living God; not in tables of stone, [like the Ten Commandments], but in fleshy tables of the heart.”

I don’t remember my grandpa stepping into a church ever! He never practiced any ritual, or spoke a prayer in which any one of us could witness to but Grandfather walked, talked, lived and wrote the gospel upon our hearts in how he treated his family and neighbor. We were his “manifestation.” He had an epistle of  gospel truths and principles written upon the fleshy tables [book] of his heart which transferred to us as his living legacy. 

   I believe everyone learns the most and the kind that stick by osmosis.  The examples around us are like fingerprints upon our souls, their influence leave a perfume that envelopes and circles around us by bringing things to mind.

       I was very blessed to see what a prayer feels like in grandpa’s continuous sacrifice. As an example. When grandma began growing sick, weaker, had a couple surgeries, she naturally couldn’t lift me from my wheelchair into bed, well, he’d carefully shove his worked worn out, heavy hands under my armpits gently lifting me up and sit me down on the edge of my bed then cradle me and lie me down sweetly, kiss my forehead and say to grandma, “call me for anything you need.”  Most men do not, [this is my experience]ever exemplify such tenderness, a sensitivity that lightens another’s weight with an awareness that this was a privilege and not a chore. 

Grandpa never drove a car for fears that he couldn’t learn all the rules. He never forgot birthdays, grandma’s favorite flowers, he never turned you off when you were talking to him, he never forgot his long time friendships and never made us feel we were a burden.

He always kept his word, paid his debts, served anyone in need, he made certain the home was safe and we were provided for—simply, he put us and duty before himself.

Life wasn’t anything he ever dreamed of but it was never less than what he truly believed in, loved, and knew that the end result of his decisions would bear no harm.  No, he wasn’t “perfect” but his patterns of living led us as close to perfection as well as himself.

          I learned that some souls are born with the Truth inscribed within their hearts and that if we would just follow those godly, subtle whisperings and impressions God sends, our joys could be sweeter, our hearts would be  sanctified quicker, our environment would abound in peace and very few regrets would be ours. Jesus taught “by their fruits ye shall know them.”  I know and knew my grandfather [Abuelo] as a minister of love, not because he read the scriptures or prayed aloud, not because he attended church, preached hell and damnation or any specific virtue or reward. None of these seemed to be a deep concern, but rather he “preached” love’s power as the answer no one can live without.

        I’m amazed I’ve lived twenty-one years without his shuffling slippers about these rooms, the smell of Old Spice, his playing “It’s Cherry Wine and Apple Blossom Time” on the organ with one hand late into the night; his leg massages when my feet ached, his snoring, kisses on my forehead and hearing him call me “vijirita” which means a person that’s always looking around corners, one who’s aware of everything that’s going on around  them, who observes carefully. That I’ve always been!

The words of the prophet Jacob feel appropriate to end this entry: “life passes away as if in a dream.” (Jacob 7:26)