Second Chances by Grettel Deane-Miguelez (ereader that reads to you .txt) 📕

Second Chances

My grandfather recently passed away. Although, I felt the sadness everyone experiences when a loved one dies, my true feelings were of remorse. I had been careless and thoughtless; all I ever gave him was grief. He probably went to his grave worrying about me.

Grandpa wasn’t the lovey-huggy type. He simply treasured his family and did everything in his power to protect all of us, especially me. Sometimes I thought myself his favorite grandchild but we were all his favorites. Keeping me out of trouble was a way to preserve our whole family happy.

I was, what some might say, a problem kid. Feeling misunderstood by my parents I was always getting into problems at school, getting into fights, until the inevitable happened. I got into a situation with the police.

My grandfather came to get me out of jail. He didn’t yell or criticize me he just looked so sad and disappointed. My grandfather was a big man, a tough man but that day he looked small and scared and it was my fault. He never told my parents about that day. Actually, he never said a word to me about it either.

After the arrest incident, I made a commitment to stay out of trouble. I owed it to my grandfather. He had been so forgiving, it was only right to try to make him proud of me. I didn’t have much time to show my grandfather the results of his compassion for me, because less than a year later he died peacefully in his bed. Maybe he knew that he didn’t have to worry about me anymore.

After his death, his absence heavy in my life, I was constantly thinking about him. About that fateful day and how he handled it. If I had not been so self-centered I would have talked to him more, I would have understood the man that had given me the benefit of the doubt, the man that gave me a second chance.

I didn’t know much about grandfather’s past, we never talked about his childhood, or my great-grandparents, or the place where he grew up. All I knew was that he had come through Ellis Island like so many others of his time. I yearned to know more about him, about his life in the old country, about his youth.

One day, while looking at some old photographs, my grandmother joined me and said “that’s when your grandfather got promoted to foreman, he was a hard worker, never missed a day of work. Although he looks older, he was about your age in that picture. Your grandfather had come to this country by himself at the age of 13 after an incident back home”.

I silently listened to the story that followed. A little glimpse into the life of the man I took for granted.

“Your grandfather lived with his parents in a small remote village where daily life was about survival. It was a hard life for a child, nothing like yours. At that time, there were no idle hours with friends, any video games, or TV or going to school. A family in a village was lucky enough if they had a roof over their heads and food to eat. Children had to help their parents with their chores and going to school was not a priority.

He wanted a better life though and managed to go to school even if he had to get up before dawn and take care of the farm chores, mainly tending to the goats that provided the milk for the village only source of income: cheese.

An only child, he wanted to be able to go the city one day, become prosperous, and provide an easier life for his parents. He thought himself their only hope. Many people had left the village for a better life. They used to send letters but not many villagers could read or write so your grandfather was usually called for help. He would read the letters and write the replies. He enjoyed the letters from America the most.

One day, the family received notice that the city mayor would be coming to the village with his wife and daughter to make a business proposition for the promotion of the cheese. It would be a great opportunity for the village residents. An opportunity to sell the cheese in the city would bring money to the community thus prosperity. The influx of money would provide extremely needed services such as a doctor and a clinic and even electricity.

The family busied themselves with arrangements for the very important visitors. Meals were prepared, grapes pressed and the best homemade wines were chosen, the finest tableware collected and the whitest tablecloths laid out in expectancy of their guests’ arrival. It was not often that people from the city came to the remote village.

When the guests arrived, there was a mood of merriment and genuine delight. Some of the villagers played their long forgotten guitars and everybody sang and danced. Food and drink flowed, the men talked about business, the reason for the visit.

Your grandfather, then a scrawny teenager, was sent to the cellar to fetch some more wine for the guests. The mayor’s daughter, curious to find out what a cellar looked like, asked to accompany him. He proceeded to explain that it was nothing but a dark underground room where the wine was kept and its only occupant a cat. She insisted and followed him.

Upset that the silly girl would delay his return to listen to the negotiations he quickly grabbed a candle, instead of the more reliable oil lantern at the house, to light their way through the dark alley that lead to the cellar.

While descending the steps, the candle blew out; the girl was startled and lost her footing letting out a bone-chilling scream. Stunned your grandfather tried to hold her, but failed. They both fell down the stairs, one on top of the other. Hearing the screaming girl, the worried parents ran to the cellar. Upon seeing them, a jumble of arms and legs they assumed the worst. The first thought in his parents mind was that the boy had taken advantage of the girl and refused to hear any explanations.

Your great-grandfather gave his son a beating, locked him in the cellar, and told him he would have to sleep there among the rats for embarrassing the family in front of the guests. Your grandfather felt terrible, he knew he had not done anything wrong, if only he could be given a chance to explain...

Sad and sore from the beating, he didn’t sleep all night. In the morning after everyone left for church, he listened for sounds and waited until he was sure that everyone was gone; then, escaped from the cellar. He had been trapped in there before by accident so he knew how to get out. He silently crept back to the house, went straight to a jar where the money was kept and took some.

He proceeded to walk to the town. Hopped on a bus and made it to the city. With the money he took from the jar, he bought a ticket for a ship destined for New York.

During those times, you could get on a ship as long as you had the money for ticket. There were no travel documents or age limit. The only requirement was the name and address of somebody in the States. Reading and writing all those letters to the villagers came in useful, he was able to provide the necessary name and address and was allowed trough Ellis Island.

He soon found employment on the docks, slept in a warehouse behind some crates and kept out of trouble until he saved enough to move into a boarding house. He continued working and made a decent life for himself, and then we met, got married, had children and the rest you know.

He never saw or communicated with his parents again. They did not bother to look for him either. He didn’t hate them; on the contrary, but was grateful for they had given him the strength that brought him to America, the morals that had kept him out of trouble and the ability to love and listen to his children without reservations. That is why, when you got arrested, he helped you without reproach. He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, to hear your side of the story. He believed everyone you love is worthy of a second chance”.

Grandma patted my hand and walked away.

I just sat there thinking, “There wasn’t a side to my story. I didn’t have any reason to get into trouble. I was simply a spoiled child with no care in the world”. I thought about a scared thirteen-year-old that had turned adversity into an opportunity to be the best person he could be. He didn’t use the shortcomings of his parents as an excuse to be insensitive or bitter for he didn’t see them as such.

I do hope that, wherever his soul is in this universe, he knows that I am grateful and feel fortunate he had been there. I am forever indebted to him for that fateful day, long ago when he ran away. Grandpa will always have a place in my heart, never to be forgotten in a cellar again.

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"Nothing is predestined: The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings".
Ralph Blum

Publication Date: 02-16-2010

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