My grams is watching Breaking Dawn with the most confused fucking look on her face.

Go vote, my goats 😌

If you seriously think you’ve discovered the entirety of who you are as a person in your early 20s, you’re a fucking idiot.

Double so if you look down on folks who know better that to proclaim the same thing.

And triple fucking idiot points if you’re under the impression that you’ve stopped changing.

While in you’re early 20s.

You literally turn 23 next week lol relax

It’s been two weeks and idk, maybe this is a bit “old” (idk how long a shelf life eulogies have). But I’d like to share with you all the speech I delivered on my grandpa’s behalf during his wake.

“Good evening, everyone.

Despite the circumstances that lead us here, it’s an honor to be able to speak on Papi’s behalf today. Even though there’s only so much words can say, I hope that he’d find my words to be worthy, and that I can properly convey why he’s so special to me and how he impacted my life.

As most of you know, my dad wasn’t really in the picture while I was growing up. And when I share that with people the response always ranges from empathy to pity, but the fact is none of them really get it. My circumstances were unique. My father wasn’t there, but Papi was, and he more than made up for it.

I spent the first 14 years of my life living with him and my mom and my grams, right down the block from here. His presence wasn’t loud but it was always there, threaded into the fabric of my life.

I remember how he’d read the Daily News every day, a publication that got to the heart of current events while still being accessible to those still building their reading skills. Papi and I would share it, and I’d read anything that caught my attention. In this way he helped spark a desire in me to know more about the world, in an era before news could be sensationalized in 140 characters or less. I’m a Political Science major now and hope to carry that awareness with me wherever I go, and I credit Papi for that.

I remember how he’d sometimes read that same newspaper while watching baseball on TV. Growing up, I didn’t get it—wasn’t his attention divided? Wasn’t something being wasted? But then smart phones became a thing, and I’d goof around on mine while watching TV, and, you know… maybe the divide between generations isn’t so wide after all ;)

But he really loved baseball, and I still can’t follow it to save my life, but that’s okay. I still have fond memories of it. I become so annoyed when anyone talks to me about any sport for more than 5 minutes, except baseball. That’s the exception. That was Papi’s favorite.

I remember how he lit up when he talked about his time in the army, and the pride I felt when I talked about that with my friends. I once brought in a picture of him from his army days to my AP Government class in HS, and I’ll never forget how everyone—even my hardnosed teacher—took a moment to study it. Maybe it’s because it told a story that’s too often erased, that of Latinos serving in the U.S. army before the 1990s. I’d like to think so.

I always liked how his life story was a counternarrative of sorts: an Afro-Latino who from a well-to-do family, who served in Korea, who could speak not only Spanish and English but conversational German as well, who married a fair-skinned woman at a time when such a thing was reviled, who with her managed to raise two children to adulthood during the crack epidemic, and who still had enough energy to help my mom with me.

And isn’t that such a beautiful story? Isn’t that the sort of life we should all aspire to? When I think back on Papi’s time on earth, this is what I’ll remember. I’m so happy to have met him. I’m so lucky he was my grandpa.”

My gramps passed away this morning.

I wanna write more about it later, a lot is just happening rn

Things have taken a turn for the worst with my gramps. They’re moving him down to the hospice wing.

Like/rb if you’re a drunk weeaboo bastard.

I gotta tell you guys, I had a dream last night where I was at a warehouse party populated by a bunch of 20-somethings and the sick, socially awkward hybrid of Al Gore and Dick Cheney. They were definitly more of a Malachite than a Garnet, but it was the same basic principle.

I remember trying to write up a post about it to tell you guys but my efforts kept getting thwarted by the warehouse owner’s son, a redhead who traveled back in time from the 1980s and lived outside on the curb because he liked to look up at the stars before he fell asleep. And when I finally did it, it felt so real and I was so fucking satisfied that I had to check this morning to make sure I didn’t actually post some inchoerent ramble about the SU and political fandom’s epic crossover.