Every so often I sit on my bed and stare at the
Crucifix handing above my pillow.
Dried, old, and stale palm hanging behind it from
last year’s palm Sunday.
Above it is a picture of the Italian
“Madonnina” Which is Mary and Baby Jesus.
Under the crucifix is a wooden Rosary.
I sit and think about everything I’ve been through.
All my trial and tribulations. Nothing stands out to me
More than the crucifix on my wall.
I go back to Redwood City, Ca around 1996 or so.
Growing up with both my parents, an older brother, and
my Grandmother as well.
I grew up watching my brother get all the time,
Affection, and the “I love you’s”. If he got bullied
My mom would call on the Police to take action.
If I were to mention some problem, the response I would get
Would be, “What did you do to instigate it?”
See, my grandmother was more of a mother to me
than my own mom. She used to tell her story of her
delivery of me to everyone. About how I’m the reason
she was in a coma for 2 weeks.
The doctors overdosed her on Anesthesia, which caused her lungs
To collapse. Is that my fault too?
My brother would color on the fridge and put the crayon in my hand, left me with
Consequences to his actions. Always taking the blame. Never
Seem to do anything right. Too much pain for an 11 year old to
Bare. Picked up the phone to call a stranger I talked to on AOL.
“I need to run away. Can you come get me?”
“Sure, when?”
“Now.”
Parents have left to the store. Shared a room with my grandmother.
There I sit, bags packed, face in my pillow crying. I was ready to go.
Grandma came into the room and sat on her bed. She kept the crucifix of her
dead husband under her pillow. She would pull it out at night and pray with it
And put it back. This time, she would not put it back.
“Vieni, siediti sul letto e ascolta.”
She told me to come sit with her on her bed and listen.
My grandma only spoke Italian.
Ready to run away, I figured, what the hell?
She said to me, “I know it’s hard, she’s your mother though.”
And I listened. She continued, “Here is the crucifix of your grandfather.
Do not loose it. Take it with you where ever you go. It will protect you. Take it, it’s yours
Now.”
I sat there, with a crucifix in my hand, of a man I never met.
I thought to myself…She wasn’t in the room when I called.
How would she know I was going to run away? She didn’t understand
English. I sat and thought about God. He must have touched my
Grandma’s heart. Why would she randomly tell me to take it where
Ever I go? It was like God whispered to her that I was about to leave.
I thank God everyday for allowing me to have my grandmother
In my life for as long as he did.
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