He Lived A Long 77 Years
You ask me if I’m OK, and I say yes. I’m OK in the knowledge that, the day after I found out Luz and I have a baby boy awaiting in her womb, my grandfather passed. It was a Tuesday when I saw my boy’s penis through black-and-white live-action screens, exclaiming “YES!” in relief that I finally found out a whole lot more about the fetus occupying her space for the better part of four months. It rained hard that day, and, as the taxi windows clapped with the drops of water from the outside, I told Luz about the joy I felt of this tremendous undertaking, but the eerie feeling I felt at the pit of my stomach. Shortly thereafter, we called her mom, my mom (who didn’t pick up at first), and then her father. She called my mother a second time, and my mom might as well have jumped out of Luz’s cell phone receiver with her elation.
But something was off. Mom said she was made aware that my grandfather was officially off the pipes and
