Cinco de Abuela

Cinco de mayo. Today is the anniversary of the passing of my grandmother, Rita Berg. My students often say,"Why don't we celebrate Cinco de mayo?" Other than the fact that it's not a major Mexican holiday, this date always brings me back to Nana. This year I told my amazing students this, and told them why she still lives on in me.

Nana was the reason why I pledged Delta Gamma. For those who knew me from childhood through high school, I wasn't exactly typical sorority material. I didn't exactly gravitate towards female groups. I was content when younger hanging out with the brothers, riding around Chelmsford on our bikes, checking out massive eighteen wheelers behind Skip's and picking through garbage on trash day for our forts. When I went through recruitment at college I saw this as an experience, until the philanthropy part of Delta Gamma. I was hooked the moment I heard the group focused on Service for Sight. As my grandmother was blind from Usher's Syndrome, the group's mission called out to me. I honestly didn't care about anything else they told me when I pinned on the Pi Alpha pin as a new member. I remember this was the first thing I told Nana and Grampy about when I informed them I had joined a sorority.

Nana loved reading. No, she couldn't "see" words on a page but her books on tape took her more places than I will ever go. I still have one of her favorite Kristin Hannah cassette titles upstairs on my bookshelf. We would discuss stories for hours. She was my soulmate when it came to sharing the wonders we felt when we experienced tales others had told. Both of us could experience people and places, learn so much, without ever leaving our homes. For her this became her life. For me it was the beginning of an adventure that would lead me to help others find their own paths. I saw how books were Nana's escape, her outlet to a world beyond her own and essential to who she was. Words held power like no other. Now today, I use words - in both Spanish and English - to help others go forth and become powerful as well.

Her laugh. I still hear it. The sound was somewhat of a giggle but not so much. The laugh was uniquely hers, and she would try to cover up her mouth with her hand. The smile was always present not at her mouth, at her eyes, but her whole body when she was happy. Her cheeks would light up. Nana felt truly happiness.

When I heard about her passing on Cinco de mayo, I'll admit I saw a bit of irony in it. Being a Spanish teacher and so connected to the Hispanic culture, I knew I would always remember the anniversary of my grandmother's death. I joked with my eighth grade students about this awkward thought on Friday. But that day, so many years ago, I knew immediately I had to come home, to return to the family that had formed so much of me which I had try to deny, saying that Kristin was unique, herself. In reality I had been formed by so many influences by blood.

On this Cinco de mayo once again I live her legacy, sharing laughter of my own in which you can hear traces of Rita. A giggle, a smile, and hope.