C’est la vie

With a heavy heart, I want to take this post to honor my late grandfather, Marcelino Borges. On June 18, 2010, he passed away. While very much different than the unepxected loss of Marcel and Zach, it was nevertheless a humbling and heavy experience.

I was lucky enough to make a trip to visit him a few weeks earlier. My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer in February, and after a successful and almost painless chemo treatment, things somehow took a turn for the worst. My amazing husband urged me to visit him, and he even agreed to drop everything and come along with me for a 24-hour trip to NYC.

While we can never expect to be priviledged enough to know when God will take us for himself, it was comforting to feel that my grandfather somehow knew his days were few. While my mother and I briefly stepped out of the hospital room, Ryan left to console my sick grandfather, who whispered in his earshot "C’est la vie. It is my time and I am ready." My grandfather was always a better Spanish speaker than English, but he delighted in tossing his limited French vocabulary into stories and jokes spicing them up with his heavy Cuban accent.

On the day he passed he had been taken home and was in his favorite chair surround by his dearest loved ones, my mom, aunt and cousin Lissette. He motioned the sign of the cross and peacefully closed his eyes.

If I could choose to live a life like anyone, I would choose to live mine like my grandfather's. I will miss him dearly and hope that his generosity, diplomacy, love and respect for all will be remembered always and passed down to our family members who were never able to meet a man who left such immense impressions on so many. Here are some special pics of my grandfather.

Grandpa in his younger days.

Grandpa with my mom and aunt Francis, who we call Tita.

My grandparents and me.

My grandfather, Marcel and me in California.

Me and grandpa in New Jersey.

Me giving grandpa a kiss.

Grandpa, Ryan and I at my cousin Lissette's wedding.