Today I remember and mourn the loss of my biological Grandmother, and raised me from the moment I was taken out of my mother’s womb. She passed this Earth far to soon when I was only 9 years old.
My mother (and biological grandmother) is and always will be Agripina Delgadillo de Ponce. Her stage name was Sylvia as she was an actress back in the 1940’s – 1950’s in Mexico D.F. and all over the United States in a travelling ‘Vaudeville’ type troupe. Her first husband and the love of her life, Manolo, was her partner in the performances. They had 4 children of whom were all born in different states and countries, due to their constant traveling. She was famous for her Silver Goddess dance…she would cover her sinewy dancer body in silver paint and dance with her troupe for the performance.
When Manuel died, my Abuelita found herself destitute and with four rambunctious children. She stayed single for several years until one day she met my Abuelito…a smelter worker at the local Asarco plant. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, since she found herself with child…who would later become my biological mother.
From the moment I was born, all I knew was her. From the moment I awoke to the moment she rocked me carefully to sleep, she was my one source of companionship in the world. She would often sing me this Mexican lullaby but would always change the lyrics however she pleased:
Arriba del cielo
Hicieron tamales
Lo supo San Pedro
Mandóa a traer dos reales
Al arrorró niño
Al arrorró ya
Duérmete niñito de mi corazón
Duérmete niñito que tengo que hacer
Lavar tus pañales ponerme a coser
Al arrorró niño
Al arrorró ya
Duérmete niñito de mi corazón
Canción para dormir a un niño
I fondly remember walking through the streets in Downtown El Paso on the weekends with her…her blonde hair corralled carefully into a silk scarf, her brightly coloured vintage sunglasses…we walked and walked until we couldn’t feel our feet anymore, then we sat and watched the pigeons in the Plaza de los Lagartos.
We did everything together. Her favorite place to eat was Luby’s and she had a penchant for movies that had Jean Claude Van Damme or Steven Segal in them. We often listened to boleros and mariachi music together; vintage songs from Carlos Gardel, Trio los Panchos or Vicente Fernandez.
I miss her dearly…she never saw me hit puberty, become the ugly duckling then flower into my own once I turned 16. I never learned how to cook, or got advice on how to deal with boys. Instead I grew up in the street and lived with daily trepidation of my family’s spite.
What helps me keep a smile in my heart is that my Abuelita was the source of my happiness, even if it was just for a few years. I delight in the fact that I got to experience her love and her tenderness and am grateful that I am able to remember those distant and emotional memories.