My name is Esperanza. Most people look forward to them, but not me. Fridays mean seven hours of school, surrounded by wannabe intellects and lectures that do not serve me any purpose, directly followed by a half hour drive to work and then having to teach four and five year old brats how to point their toes and be “ballerinas”. But I do it with a smile because soon it will all be over and I’ll finally be able to pursue a future that I actually love. It has all paid off already. I mean I work hard in school because I believe I have the power to manipulate my future. I’ve always believed in a God, and yes He has a plan for us, but it is our responsibility to follow through with his plan. Faith alone will not get anyone anywhere. It is action that leads to results. Mistakes happen, but its curves and edges that lead to a smooth ending. As you could imagine, with work and school I almost never see my family. Sometimes I think that is even better because when it comes to my family, conversations end up in conflict. My mother works an extra job in order to keep my sister, brother, and I busy with our dance, sports, and other extracurricular activities. Sometimes I see how worn out she is and it brings me to tears. She sacrifices so much just to make her children happy, and I could only hope that one day I could be the mother to my children that she is to me.
I would have to say that I admire my mother the most for how she deals with my father. Every day is a constant battle between money and drunkenness. I feel terrible for the both of them. I secretly cry myself to sleep just thinking about what a failure their marriage has come to be, but I am here and I support the both of them. I love them both, but the pain breaks my heart every day.
This Friday seemed a little different. Things were a little tense at home and I was happy that I wasn’t getting home until nine o’clock at night. Work was fine. Children swinging on my arms for a couple hours, telling me they want to be every Disney princess to date. After the headaches from screaming children, I have to man the office for a couple hours and listen to complaining parents asking why their daughters aren’t in a certain level. Closing out the day picking up trash might have been the highlight of the night. At least the drive home was peaceful. Just as I was getting home I got a phone call from my grandpa, Abuelo Angel, or as I like to call him Abuelo Loco. I picked up and I said “Hi Abuelo is everything okay?” he seemed concern, but it wasn’t about me this time it was about my father. Last I saw him the night before he was fine, but it was about his health. My father had developed arthritis over the past few years and he hasn’t exactly eaten well, but I felt there was something deeper wrong with him. He never seemed happy, and though I’ve been consumed in my own schedule the slight glimpses I see of him are not happy memories. I told my abuelo that I would help him take better care of himself, so that my younger brother, Carlito, and younger sister, Caramelo, would have a father when they turned my age. So I promised my abuelito I would talk to him tonight.
I came home and I saw an empty six pack on the kitchen counter. Usually I try to avoid any type of confrontation with my dad. I could see the drunkenness in his eyes, and the way he just stood there, gulp after gulp, can after can, it was sickening. I felt tears curl up to the corners of my eyes. The blue cabinets in the kitchen felt like they were closing in on me. Then my tears lead to yelling and sobbing. “Please stop Papi. Help everyone here. Help yourself! I know you’re unhappy, but we can change this. With everyone’s efforts, I promise we will make it. Just please stop Papi. Please stop!” I just fled to the couch after yelling my heart out.
He came up to me and asked me “Have I ruined it?”
I replied “Ruined what Papi?”
“Your life. Am I causing too much pain and agony?” he questioned.
“I just think your problem is affecting all of us” I said back to him.
I started to relax and I turned on the TV, avoiding my problems before they were about to burst in my face. I sensed that my dad left, but I didn’t think anything of it. I slowly began to fall asleep right there on the couch. I woke up and the clock said midnight so I went upstairs and crawled into my bed and fell dead asleep again. I was too excited to even change out of my clothes.
Just as I was falling into that deep sense of sleep I heard my phone ring, and I actually thought it was my Saturday morning alarm, but to my surprise the caller ID said Papi. I hoped for the best, but I already knew what happened. So I picked up the phone and in a confused, not even aware that it was two o’clock in the morning, I said “Hello?” He replied “Ezperanza it’s Papi. Te necesito”, worried I answered back “Papi are you okay? What do you need?”
My heart sank. “I need you to pick me up.”
“Where are you? What is going on? What time is it?” the questions were pouring out of my eyes uncontrollably. “I’m at the police station. I got arrested?” There was an awkward silence and then he gave me the address of the police station and I wrote it down. I said I will be there as soon as I can. I was so conflicted inside and out. I was so mad and angry; I felt bad for my father and I was crying, but I knew he had this coming for a long time. God doesn’t punish, he simply teaches lessons. I don’t think this lesson was only intended to teach my father that he is not invincible, but I think that everyone in my family had something to learn.
So I got into the car and I drove off into the dark night. With tears in my eyes I arrived at the police station; no one else was there. I went in through the door and a policeman asked “Is this your dad?” I just nodded yes because I know that if words came out they would turn to tears, and I could not handle this at this time. The car ride home was silent as we drove through the back roads home, through windy curvy roads he just stared forward, not mentioning the incident that just happened. Then as I pulled into the driveway of our small one story colonial style house with brick siding, my dad asked me for one more promise. He then asked me if I could keep this from my mom, and in the spur of the moment I said yes, but after a moment of that thought settling in my mind I turned angry. Parked in the driveway of my house, I just stared at him. He sat there with a blank stare, stained t-shirt, greasy hair, and torn jeans. I just yelled “Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? I’ve had it! I’m done!” Then I just stormed inside, slamming the door of our old beat-down 2005 green Ford Expedition. In my room I just broke down until my eyes felt heavy and I fell asleep.
On Saturday I woke up early because I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I just laid there with my eyes glued shut. In my head I had hoped that last night was just a nightmare, a dream, a capricious thought that my sleepless brain created. I took a look at my cell phone and saw its history and seeing that incoming call from “Papi” at two o’clock in the morning confirmed it for me. It was not a nightmare, it was real and I did not want to accept it. I went into my mother’s room and she was already up. I saw her with her long brown hair, she really glowed. My mother was such an angel. She inspired me to be a better person. Being selfless has directed her to live the life of a martyr. She loves and loves yet I do not even think I love her enough. She seemed upset; I saw tears slipping from her eyes, so I assumed she found out about last night. I decided to give her some space because I knew she needed time for the news to sink in.
I went into the kitchen and made Caramelo and Carlito some breakfast. I saw the joy in their faces, so innocent and sweet. I wish I was like them, oblivious to life’s hardships. When I was their age I remember Mami and Papi could not afford much and I had to make do with imaginary friends and coloring books. I didn’t have much, and I didn’t know that much either, and I liked it that way. I was happy. When you have nothing and know even less life is stress free. As the years pass you become aware of all the evil and corruptness in the world and in your own family. For a time I was in denial of the turmoil in my household, but I’ve never lost hope for a happy life. I think people find happiness when they accept the fact that something is being cancerous to the soul and then battle against it. It may take a bigger sacrifice, but what is the point to going on with misery and pain? We all control our destinies.
My mom came in my room and broke her silence. “Ezperanza, Abuelo Angel passed away this past Monday.” I thought to myself that is absolutely impossible, I spoke to him on Last night. “Mami I talked with him on Friday. He called me and told me to watch out for Papi. This is impossible!”
“Ezperanza this is not a joke. My father, your abuelo, is gone and no one can bring him back!” she said in absolute frustration. For a second I sat there in shocked silence, but then I saw her cry, and then it felt like every teardrop was a waterfall. I ran off to my room I knew this could not be! I went to check my phone for the call history I had for Last night. I knew I spoke with him, and I had proof. When I went to pick up my phone, my shaking fingers scrolled across the smooth touch screen back to Last night’s call log. I did not see his name there. How did this come to be? I know I spoke with him. I was alone in the car.
I ran back to my mother she was still sobbing. I told her the story of how I spoke to Abuelo on Friday and how he told me to watch out for Papi. Then through all the emotions, crying, and heartache I came to realization that I truly did speak with my Abuelo Angel only in reality he was an angel. He knew what was going to happen that night, and he knew that I was going to be the one to go pick up my dad because I was the one that could save him. My mother might have thought I was crazy for a second, but she believed in the power of God and how he can make miracles happen in all of our own lives. I didn’t know if Papi had heard the news, but I had to confront him about what happened last night. So I walked into the living room where he was staring blankly into the television watching some sort of disinteresting video on the History Channel.
“Papi I think Abuelo tried to help me save…”, before I could finish he pulled me in and gave me a hug and I could feel tears begin to run down his face. Then he said “What have I done? I have completely destroyed this family and I have abandoned every moral I believed in. All I ever wanted to be was a good husband and an even better father, but I have failed you, all of you. Your mother told me about Abuelo and I wish I got to say goodbye to him. He was like a father to me and I could only wish to be half the man he ever was. Esperanza I am so sorry. I promise I will fix this. I will make this better. I will bring happiness back into this house. You don’t deserve this, neither does your mother, and neither do Carlito and Caramelo. Such innocent and youth. I wish we could all stay that way, when forgiving was easy. So do you forgive me Esperanza? I promise I will change.”
I knew his words were genuine because for the first time in years I saw Papi having a gentle touch. His eyes did not scream anger, cheap, or jealousy. They were soft, I could actually see his beautiful hazel eyes fill with tears as he leaned towards me to give me a hug. This embrace was the biggest glimpse of hope for a happy future of a unified family. I felt my abuelo within him. When you truly love someone it doesn’t matter what they do to you, you will always love them unconditionally and all you have to do is hope that some day that love will be returned in full.

Three days later I spoke at my abuelo’s funeral. I told the story of how I spoke with him on the night he passed away. He wanted me to make sure that everyone was okay. He is a true guardian angel, watching over us all. His passing did not give me knowledge or courage, but strength to find hope one last time. When the world seems as though it is about to fall apart, we all have our guardian angels to call down on and I am proud to say that mine is Abuelo Angel. I miss you Abuelo and I know you can hear me. As they buried him into the ground and tears came dripping down my face I whispered “*Te amo y que Dios te bendiga Abuelito” then a gust of wind blew by; that right there was his final goodbye.

*I love you and I hope that God blesses you Grandpa.