The Woman Who Didn’t Believe in Ceilings

I'm told I got to meet my great-grandparents, and there are times when I think I remember them. For all I know, I’m confused—or it’s all a dream—but honestly, it doesn’t matter much to me.

Even if I never met them, if I never saw their faces, I can sincerely say I know them well. I may not know how Great-Grandma Maggie liked her tea, or if Great-Grandpa Antuco smoked Cuban cigars, but that hardly matters. I had the luck to be born into their family, and I was blessed to meet their children.

When I first flew to Florida in my teens, I didn’t know exactly what to expect. My mother was going through a difficult time in her life—considering a fresh start. Divorce is never easy, and my brothers and I were just along for the ride.

The boy I was in those days may be completely gone now, but the memory of that trip marked my life forever. I thought I was going to stay at the house of a distant relative. I had no idea I would end up gaining a loving grandmother in the process.

I still remember those first days vividly—her candid, warm smile. Right away, she made me feel welcome and loved. The image of Boli (as we all called her) with her tiny teacup Yorkie inside her purse is a treasure I’ll keep with me until my time comes.

“Boli is making cafecito,” my cousin would shout. A special event, I’m told. Everyone smiling in anticipation of a delicacy she had truly mastered. A magical concoction with all the ingredients I’m not even supposed to look at these days—sugar, condensed milk—you know, the culprits.

There was never a day I felt like I didn’t belong. In fact, I remember wondering why Boli was so special, only to realize that her brother—my grandpa—was built from the same lumber. Just like my grandpa was the loving patriarch to us all, Boli was the nurturing matriarch to my aunts and cousins.

Being the curious person that I am, one day I sat down with Boli to learn about her life. How did she end up in Florida, of all places? Why did she leave Ecuador—the land that saw her birth—for a wild adventure as a single mother?

You see, we’re talking about a different time. The idea that a woman would leave her husband, move to another country with her kids, and flourish—it was unheard of. Yet there she was, the woman who cared little about glass ceilings, calmly smiling at me as she shared stories of those early years.

I see her strength in my aunts all the time—I really do. They’ve all been dealt difficult hands, and yet none of them have given up. Despite the hardships they’ve faced, not one of them turned bitter. And they’re as united as siblings can be, always putting each other first.

Yesterday, my mother told me Boli had finally left this plane. She had been very sick for a while, and her body finally gave up. My mother says Boli told my aunts that her siblings—the ones who had already passed—had visited her. I’m sure she knew her time was near. But I’m also sure she displayed her usual strength and showed her family how to face adversity with dignity, one last time.

She may be gone, but I’m confident her legacy will be carried by the children she raised, and the family that loved her—every single one of us.

MenO