click - open - new tab - blank page - A Celebration of life story

Last night i fell asleep at 2 am feeling “ today is someones bday.. who am i celebrating..” i wake up to posts about My grandpa who died 3 years ago.

I am dyslexic so i never remember dates bdays etc but i often feel them and end up connecting with the humans around the right dates.

He was very modern in a way, his understanding of unconditional love was vast (on the low but he loved everyone) he was magnetic and so smart and never finished middle school but he read all the writers and knew all the tango lyrics and so much about so much. He loved fine dining and fabrics – he was an artist – he had a textile fabric, that we donated to a group of kids thru a church after he passed.. even tho we are jewish because he / we felt more conected to this group of kids than the jewish community where we were.

He was worldly even tho he hadnt traveled so much but he was on his own since he was 8. You could see the wold in his eyes. He was very sensitive so often cranky or short or snapy but he always made time for his grandkids. He loved giving advice about “being a good person by making sure you treat everyone with respect regardless of their job or status” he watched futbol too loud, he warmed up clementines in the microwave, he ate his feelings until he was comfortably numb. He used to ask me to buy him cigarettes across the street when i was 12, i always did, i would tell him to stop smoking every time, but i still bought them. One time i said no, its bad for u i dont want to buy them, then we stared at each other in silence for a while, i took the money, i bought the cigs, i came back, opend it, took one, handed the rest over, followed him to the yard, and asked him for a light after he lit his.

I lit mine, we laughed and then he lectured me for 15 min on why i shouldn’t smoke. That was not my first smoke, maybe my 5th, but definitely the first one i ever smoked with the intention of “connecting” instead of at 13.. “feeling cool or rebellious or whatever i was doing at the time”

That stayed with me. Apparently with him too because he never asked me to buy him a pack again.

One time towards his last years of life he took me on a “secret adventure i was not supposed to talk about” we got into his remodeled giant ‘80s white ford falcon car that he always wanted to fix up, it looked right out of a hollywood set, and drove around shady parts of cordoba argentina near an old river where slums meet abandoned business warehouses. We parked mid-street about 3pm near some broken windows, he called a guy, guy came out of a building sprinting like a gazelle, hopped on a motorcycle and we chased this mofo driving like insane people with this huge wide car bouncing off curves and sidewalks while my grandpa calmly announced “he wont hurt us because you are in the car he has kids too” me realizing i was “good collateral” or something for this car chase. After the guy got away, grandpa (yeye) was upset and mumbled some swares and something about destiny fkn him up hopefully and that he will come back to see him tomorrow. I was laughing and gidi at the sight of this totally badass bold version of him id never seen before.

I felt safe the whole time. This guy clearly owed him money. Money was always owed or missing or needed or wanted. But i always felt so abundant and ate so delicious at their home.

I realized speaking with my mom recently, how that house was the only place i ever truly felt at home with consistency.

My parents divorced early on and we have all moved so much, i am always on the road, i have nothing from my childhood, barely any pictures. Sometimes i feel anger at not having a root somewhere.. then i remember part of my practice is letting go, im here to in part, be an embodiment of non attachment, to security, jobs, norms, lovers, love, things, houses, even ideas. And i love that. My roots exist within many dimensions all over the universe and shine through deep friendships and sacred spaces that i can tap into with a moment of mindfulness. Im doing this more now. It feels grounding.

I am just realizing an interesting connection. Before my grandma passed (half a year or so before grandpa did) she came to me in meditation ( i was far away across the americas and she could no longer speak at this point) she said to me “i am waiting for you to find a home, then i will let go” she passed before i moved to austin but her spirit left earth once i was fully grounded in my new home of 3 years (longest I’ve lived anywhere as an adult) i really felt that. I really felt her company and guidance and how she is still now a protector of mine.

My mom and aunt will say grandpa was a difficult man to live with, in addition to remembering how wise and kind and loving he was simultaneously. I can see that. But to me, from the grandkid perspective he was unapologetically himself, he knew who he was, he loved what he did, he had an abundant mindset, even if brk most of the time, he was a light in so many peoples lives, he chose to exit the matrix before living in sickness, he always spoke his mind, he didnt take shit from nobody.

Today as i remember and celebrate your life i find out your ashes were thrown in some local arroyo, uneventfully, and the container of your ashes in the trash on some nearby street.

Your presence is so wide and epic that it almost makes sense. You are that city, you live in so many peoples anecdotes, you were wise beyond your time and you knew the body and this one life is just another dream, another cycle, another click – open – new tab – blank page – you hated computers. But you loved my poetry.

May your soul freely glide through the stars you came from. Thank you and grandma for always guiding me.

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