MULTITUDES

20 - Grandma Roque

I loved all of my grandparents, but out of all of them, I did feel the closest to my Grandma Roque. My Dad’s mom. My Grandma Roque helped to raise my sister and I because my parents had to work 9-5 jobs.

My Grandma Roque was well-known for being the most stylish person in the room — donning her high heels, a silk scarf caressing her shoulders, a pant suit and blouse, chunky gold rings on multiple fingers, painted nails, a mauve lipstick and her iconic Oscar de la Renta eau de parfum.

Needless to say, my Grandma Roque instilled in me a great emphasis in the values of appearance, status and presentation. I felt very micro managed when it came to my level of cleanliness and hygiene. To be pristine and smelling oh so fresh was favored. Being disheveled or dirty was unacceptable. There was almost a sort of high esteem and royalty that my Grandma exuded and prescribed. My Grandma Roque would lick her thumb and curl my eyelashes upwards to make sure they were curled, because pretty eyes meant curled lashes. Perfumes and colognes were a staple for me at the ripe old age of 10; CK One was my go to scent. My Grandma Roque bought me most of my jewelry growing up from the jewelers in downtown San Francisco — be it a 14k gold chain, or a white gold bracelet or my favorite, gold Nike Swoosh earrings.

It was no mystery that my Grandma Roque was into material things, but was also very generous with her money when it came to treating her grandchildren. She enjoyed taking us shopping at the Macy’s Department Store, The Gap or Foot Locker to get new clothes and shoes, especially around birthdays and the 1st day of school. Oh! And she was no scrooge when it came to buying me lavish meals, snacks, sodas and candies after school. The gratification of consuming snacks, mostly junk food in middle school and junior high certainly brought me comfort. Yet that was part of the luxury, having access to whatever I wanted, to satiate my cravings.

Like all of us, my Grandma Roque also had her own struggles. From my understanding, she dealt with anxiety and depression. “Chemical imbalances” my mother said, “mental health issues” the doctors would say and so they prescribed her with pills. But she didn’t like how the pills made her feel, so, she never took them.

I also heard the word “manipulative” thrown around and used in reference to my Grandma at a very young age. “Your Grandma Roque is manipulative,” is what the adult figures in my life would say. My basic understanding of manipulation as a young person, was when someone did something sneaky or cunning to get you to do something for them and to simply get their way. I’m pretty sure I found a book one time hiding in the corner amongst a stack of papers at my Grandma’s house. A Beige hard covered book with Forest Green Times New Roman Font. The title is not exactly accurate but from what I can remember it read, “How To Get People To Do What You Want.” Also, this is a super fuzzy memory and I didn’t tell anyone I found this book, so I maybe am not naming this as a fact.

I feel like it’s worthy to note that I was the youngest grandchild, so I was the last one to spend time with her as she was growing older.

I also want to make clear that I do not and did not, for one second, doubt her acceptance or love for me, even if we didn’t really talk directly about complex topics or issues. I think my Grandma Roque understood a lot, possessed many secrets and held a lot of pain herself. Honestly, I wish she was still around so I can learn more about her life, her history, her story.

When it came time for me to go away for college, that signified that I was growing older too, becoming more entwined in my own life, grew a distance between my Grandma Roque and I. I still made an effort to call her a few times a month to say hello and see how she was doing. Primarily, because my mom and dad would remind me to do that.

I think one regret I do have is not being around as much during her last days physically on this earth. Although, I did get a chance to fly home from college to see her and spend some time with her. The last image imprinted in my minds eye was her, frail, tucked gently in a bed in her dilapidated home, in a diminishing state, already a light fading. But it was her smile and her joy of seeing me, that reminded me that she was still in there.

My Grandma Roque eventually moved in with my parents, into my childhood home, with a diagnoses of Dementia, a shell of a body shutting down, she drifted away.

For my father, I’m pretty sure this was a difficult time for him, for many reasons. Later, there is a discovery of choices he was making discreetly in this timeframe that would affect his marriage and our family. My mother in the meantime took the lead, took charge in arranging the funeral, services and managing the details that follow a death.

Thereafter, sadly, there were disputes over money and that tore my father’s side of the family apart. A family already disjointed to begin with.

The adult figures in your life do rub off on you and as a child, you observe or absorb what is around you and that, ultimately, contributes to what shapes you into the adult you become. So, yeah, my Grandma Roque was a pivotal player as a primary adult figure in my life. Of course, she rubbed off on me. Some things gained proving to be useful, other things maybe not so much. She had her flaws when it came to her judgments or prejudices about other people. I’m pretty sure I felt manipulated by her once as well, but she loved me tremendously and she instantly forgave or pardoned her children and grandchildren who would repeatedly make a series of the same mistakes. But often enabling rather than genuinely helping.

My Grandma Roque was operating on the baseline of what she knew. But I will always remember her as elegant, supportive, compassionate and lavish, yet also fretful and imperfect.

I really love her and I really do miss her.

But with life there is death as with beginnings there are ends. As for my story, it continues and only gets more elaborate.