Last night, I had a really nice dream about my grandfather. I was with my aunt, my uncle and my mom, when I suddenly walked off to a private corner of some otherwise empty building. Then, he appeared to me, looking as I always remembered him before he got cancer. I told him how handsome he looked, and he thanked me. I hugged him, and I remember he was somewhat annoyed at first by my clinginess.

Then, I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me too, and I asked that God bless him, and then, shortly afterward, the dream was over.

I truly look forward to other conversations with my beloved grandfather in the near future, as he continues to guide us through this tumultuous journey that is our life here on earth. I woke up with a feeling of peace and happiness, knowing that, no matter what, I would always have a special love that came from above...the love of Heaven, and that of a grandfather for his eldest granddaughter.

God Bless,
Laurita ;)

Hey, here's a song I wrote in Spanish about a week or so ago. It's called "Mi Mundo Pierde Sentido" (My World Loses Meaning). Well, here goes:

Mi mundo pierde sentido sin ti

El que logro alegrarme el corazon

Ya me hace sufrir

Mi mundo pierde sentido sin ti

Mi unico consuelo siendo

Que tu amiga fui

Me ahogo en mis lagrimas amargadas

No tengo a quien pasarle este dolor

Lo unico que pido es que al marcharte

Te lleves en tu alma mi amor

(Repite primeras dos estrofas)

*End of song*

Estoy pensando anadirle una estrofa, pero no se todavia, y no es lo mismo sin musica, asi que ahora mismito solo me sirve de poema! (Pero tengo musica planeada.)

Estoy todavia un poquito deprimida, pero es porque me siento como si yo no tuviera amigos aqui en Puerto Rico. Parece mentira, como me estoy quedando en el area metropolitana de PR (Bayamon). Solo puedo contar con mis primos, quienes si tienen algunos amigos.

Todavia peinso escribir un articulo de periodico para El Sentinel en Orlando, pero todavia no puedo prometer tremendo progreso. El aspecto mas dificil para mi de ser periodista es tener que depender de tus contactos, quienes a veces no avanzan! Tengo a quienes entrevistar, pero no he tenido exito ninguno. :(

A demas de todo eso, hay un amigo quien no contesta su telefono, y estoy loca por comunicarme con el, porque el ni siquiera sabe que mi abuelo murio, y fue ya hace como dos semanas! Eso me tiene muy deprimida.

Bueno, mi gente, ustedes saben que pueden dejar comments en mi blog, o escribirme:

LT_FirstAmend@hotmail.com

Carinos,

Laurita ;)

I am busy today raising hell (not really!) at my aunt's house. Good news: It seems as if pretty soon, I might be able to get my journalistic career back on track with some new Spanish-language stories, but we'll see. I'll let you all know.

Yesterday was a day of intense depresssion, and I ran out of medication several days ago. Damn. I still went to Church, had an okay time, and right now my toddler cousins are driving me up the wall! LOL.

Anyway, I am seriously thinking about turning this all into a bestselling novel, but if I am not even getting sufficient comments on my blog (sufficient meaning, at least ONE!), then how can make it as a bestselling author?

Maybe I should just stick to reporting the local news.

Right now, I am through with mourning, and I seriously feel like having a party! Like that's gonna happen. But, call it a hunch, maybe people feel most like having a party when, in reality, they would just rather be surrounded by hoardes of strange, belligerent people eating their food instead of being alone with their own misery and facing it like an adult.

I confess, I am indeed one of those people. That is to say, I much rather prefer to have people mooching off of my food and making noise rather than admitting to myself that I need some time to gather my thoughts and figure out who I truly am.

Thanks for listening. Now, it's your turn to go comment. The wall right in front of me is offering more feedback than you all.

Laurita :)

I am just writing to tell you all how hectic life has been! I am still here in sunny, sticky Puerto Rico. I have safely survived all of the funeral formalities for my grandfather so far, and my Dad came and left already. That sucks.

I did kind of hope to develop what would appear to be some sort of social life during my visit here, but as of yet, that hasn't happened in the least. Indeed, the most interesting excursions I have been on so far have been eating at the local bakery (Madrid) with my father, which is just a few short blocks away from home, going to Plaza Las Americas (Puerto Rico's largest mall), and visiting Old San Juan, a treat of which I never tire.

For anyone visiting San Juan, one of the best places to eat is La Bombonera. It was established in 1902, and it is a must-do while staying here. Their specialty is a mallorca, a type of bread bun smothered in confectioner's sugar, with a cup of really strong cafe con leche (coffee with milk).

Also, try to visit Parque de las Palomas wihout actually being attacked by pigeons, like I was. It hurt like hell, I have to say, but I toughed it out, like everything else here.

Although I often feel as if my patience is wearing thin, I am weathering this period of time surprisingly well, if I do say so myself. The Segreles played at my grandfather's wake, which was an entertaining distraction, and I am actually trying to busy myself with doing homework, for a change (as opposed to finding homework incredibly boring and time-consuming!).

It is now evening 6 of our novena, a tradition that renders us the delightful opportunity to gather in Church and pray the Rosary for nine consecutive nights with a bevy of strangers that somehow became emotionally intertwined with "the deceased." What a joy.

I don't mind prayer, but I don't like the idea of strange people gathering with us, mooching off of my aunts' hospitality and actually believing that paying their respects will earn them some sort of indulgence in Heaven. Or maybe I'm just a cynical, but aren't these the same people who were too afraid to visit when my grandfather was gravely ill and bedridden? What kind of hypocritical alternate universe is this? And now they want to martyrize themselves?

Heck no. Maybe I should just tell them to leave a donation at the door and leave. Now, there's an idea!

Dear Friends of Cyberspace,

I regretfully write to inform you that my grandfather has passed away. I am almost numbed by this reality, although I am slowly but surely coming out of a very intense depression. I am medically prone to depression, so this piece of much anxiously anticipated news seemed to emotionally destroy me to the core on so many levels.

My mom, who knows me best, is obviously beside herself with grief. And my father traveled to Puerto Rico to be with us during this difficult time. To make matter's worse, my aunt's boyfriend left today for the U.S., and he was proving to be such a great source of comfort to me.

We don't always have time for tears, thank God. We have to keep ourselves on our toes by constantly watching my two little cousins, two girls, ages four and two. They are adorable, yet terrible! You just can't leave them alone for two seconds.

I composed a song today, in honor of my "uncle," who left this afternoon. It helped to be able to express my feelings toward my new friend through music, which I usually never do. More typically, I find it easier just to write. Write anything. Anything at all. A poem, maybe, or a random diary entry in a notebook which I will never use again. (You will learn how organized I am).

The realm of musical composotion has always seemed somewhat foreign to me, even if I come from a family of musicians. My grandfather played various instruments, among them the Spanish guitar, mandolin, accordion, and cuatro, another type of Spanish guitar, which resembles a lyre.

My uncle Gerardo, who died about 12 years ago in a car accident, played guitar in a rock band with my other uncle Ivan, who now directs a tuna (not the fish), a Spanish folkloric group of trouvadors. Ther name is Segreles. I was so psyched that they were able to play at my grandfather's wake. They're really awesome, and the music is not boring and old-fashioned as its traditional genre might otherwise suggest. They are really loved by everyone in my family, and my cousin plays with them, too.

Well, now that you know a little but more about me and my regular life, I shall leave you. Please feel free to comment anytime, as I have little else to do.

Thanks!

Laurita :)

FYI: Anyone interested in obtaining information on spina bifida, please visit www.mysbacf.org. It is the Web site of the Spina Bifida Association of Central Florida, of which I am an avid member. Also, I will be leaving for Puerto Rico tomorrow to visit my grandfather and my family. If possible, I will keep up my writing. Any column or story ideas? Please comment on my blog or write to me at : LT_FirstAmend@hotmail.com. Thanks! Laurita :)

There comes a time in everyone’s life when one can’t help but question every single aspect in one’s life. I say with only a smidgen of bitterness and self-regret that, indeed, I have reached that very point. Even as I write this and send it out into the unforgiving realm of cyberspace, I anguish over my simple, yet piercing, painstaking words: my grandfather is dying.

Having lost my dad’s mom but this past year to Alzheimer’s, I am now struggling internally with the harsh reality that the only grandfather I’ve known in my life, my mom’s dad, is finally losing his long, drawn-out battle with cancer, after about six or seven years. My mom’s mom being the only grandparent I will have left before long, we will be flying to Puerto Rico sometime this weekend, maybe tomorrow, to offer my family one last bit of futile emotional support.

My mom’s parents have eleven grandchildren. I am the oldest of four female cousins, the others being 17, four and two years old. We were as tight-knit as Latino families can get. I admit that I have dealt with my own share of personal medical issues, and, as far back as I can remember, they have always been there for me when I’ve needed them.

Having been born with spina bifida, I have had 18 surgeries from head to toe, and countless hospitalizations and doctor’s appointments. Spina bifida is a separation in the spinal cord which occurs from the spine’s inability to close properly within the first few week’s of a woman’s pregnancy. It is the number one cause of paralysis in children in America. Fortunately, I guess, I can walk with the aid of leg braces and sometimes, a wheelchair.

One point I want to make right off the bat, way at the beginning of what I hope will be a beautiful, wonderful blogger-reader relationship, is that I have NEVER considered myself to be “disabled.” I loathe the word, and have a very low tolerance of it. God has given me many talents, the greatest of which I hope you will find to be is writing.

After having graduated from high school from a four-year theatre program, I finally decided to major in journalism, therefore combining my loves of writing and of sharing the truth with others. My absolute goal is to become a broadcast journalist, and I hope I am slowly but surely establishing myself as the firsthand spokesperson for people with spina bifida.

What do you know? I guess I have a pretty good idea of who I am, after all. Life is sure as hell full of surprises.