AMAZING HOW THINGS SWITCH GEARS IN SECONDS

I can't sleep and for the first time in a long while it's not because Becky is not laying next to me. I just opened my second bottle of wine after tossing and turning for about thirty minutes. About two hours ago (it's 11 pm now) I got a call from my youngest brother, Ricky. He called to tell me that my grandmother Olivia was hospitalized this morning.

My grandmother, along with her youngest daughter, my aunt, Celina, still live in Matamoros, Mexico; my hometown. My grandmother is very old but like most elderly Mexican women she is strong and has had a the type of life you can make a movie from. She's experienced everything from being practically given away by her family due to financial woes (I vaguely remember a story she once told me where the only thing that sticks out is an image of a 13-year-old-or-so peasant girl being taken away in a horse and buggy crying her heart out begging her parents not to let "them" take her away to live with another family as a maid or something similar) to outliving my father and my aunt Alma (which by the way means "soul" in Spanish).

My grandmother was a teacher, as were her two only daughters. She raised me and Sergio in Mexico. She taught us to love literature and made the best frijoles con arroz you will ever taste in your life. She would sat us down after school to continue studying. She wrote a play about an married couple and an umbrella in which I and some distant cousin I barely remember were the stars during a family (of which now only blurred humanoid shapes and "what were their names" remain)annual reunions. She had a treasure of books, encyclopedias, dictionaries and tomes so finely crafted I dared not touch without her permission. She taught me cursive and every Mexican president until I lost interest somewhere between Miguel de la Madrid and Carlos Salinas de Gortari.

Celina and Alma were our incredibly gracious and enlightening in our upbringing. Alma taught in the same elementary school I attended and Celina included in every dance, recital, parade and kindergarten and elementary event she was involved herself. They were like my grandmothers' T.A.s. They were there to ensure we stayed on track. We grew up spending more time with my grandmother and aunts than my parents. They worked from 8am to 8 pm, Monday through Friday. I remember more about their house than my own.

This barrage of memories came crashing down on me about ten minutes after Ricky told me we "had" to go down to Mexico and we "HAD" to take the girls. The girls have never met their grandmother or their great aunts... well, the remaining great aunt. The last time I went down to Mexico was about a year and half before Fabianna was born. I've been meaning to take them but money has always been an issue.

I, and apparently Ricky, have come to the realization that my grandmother's bed-ridden ailment of recent years has more to do with depression than any true physical ailment. Ricky visited Matamoros about a month back and during his stay, from what he told me, my grandmother bounced right out of her bed, fixed him dinner, chatted joyously with him and even drank a Pina Colada! She moved around on her own and life was obviously surging through her body again.

I feel a tremendous weight on my soul knowing I've been unable to bring the flesh of her flesh to visit her. I tend not to think about this as the burden of guilt becomes somewhat hard to handle sometimes. Last year we went through something similar and at the time I promised myself I would take the girls before her demise. A promise, like many others I've made, which dwindled in time... "I still have time" usually echoes in the back of my head.

But that validation... or rather, excuse, no longer holds water. Granted, and I care not to go into details, this latest clinical episode seems to be brought upon family stress, it is still wearing thin. So, no more excuses... WE have to go...

But there lies the problem... or rather, problems.

Problem 1. I am not a U.S. citizen; I am a legal permanent resident. Several years ago I lost my wallet and along with it my Social Security card and my Permanent Resident card (or Green Card). Oddly enough, my grandfather obtained citizenship by marrying my grandmother who eventually renounced her U.S. citizenship to become a legal Mexican citizen. My grandfather kept his U.S. citizenship by which my parents and by default all their kids obtained their permanent resident status.

Without my Green Card I cannot freely, as I've always have, cross the border between Mexico and the U.S. Since I'd no plans to go back to Mexico since I lost my card I'd never bothered with asking for a replacement card. That and the fact that it cost $400 just to process the fucking thing. About two months ago, and due to another one of my grandmother's ailment episodes I resolved to get a replacement card. After much paperwork and appointments with the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services I finally received an email yesterday that they ordered my card for production. I should receive it in about thirty days or so. So, that problem is semi resolved.

Problem 2. I've never, nor has Felicia, had the money to take the girls out of the country. We have never had the need to get passports for the girls. I've no idea what entails in getting passports for the girls. Becky has done some research and according to her and what Ricky has said this should be a fairly easy process. I will begin research on this tomorrow.

Which brings me to Problem 3. In my eyes, the biggest one yet. About two months ago, when I first began processing my Green Card I told Felicia my plans to go to Mexico and take the girls to meet their grandmother. Felicia did not take too kindly to this. She brought up concerns about the state of the infamous "Twin Cities"; Brownsville and Matamoros and the endless stories of the war for drug cartel power that pour from that area. I can't say I blame her as I would have the same concerns should she even find out she's a Nigerian or Rwandan descendant and planned to take them there. But give me a fucking break, I am their father and would care for them with my life. Additionally, this is an extremely important peregrinate in my and their lives. This is potentially the last chance they and she will ever get to meet each other. In my mind, and Ricky's, this is what will send my grandmother to finally rest in peace.

Both Ricky and myself believe that my grandmother is holding on to this life in the off chance that she will have the sublime pleasure of meeting her grandchildren. She has no other. These are the last descendants she will ever have.... the girls are the last budding leaves in her gargantuan family tree. She can't go without taking their touch with her.

This will be my greatest, of an ongoing petty battle, with Felicia. And somehow, risking losing everything I've worked for in the midst of the fragile, semi-civil relationship we've lately been able to balance, I have to convince her that we must do this. For my sake, for my grandmother's sake and hopefully, for the girls' sake.

I am not sure yet how to approach it. I know I will first approach it softly and with my hat in my hand; as if asking for a favor. Hopefully this will suffice... Unfortunately, my senses tell me it will not. So the only other thing I can think of is full blown lashing out. Make her understand through anger... anger and compromise. Giving her things I otherwise would not be able to rescind. And I already resent her for it... because I wouldn't do that to her. Regardless, I have to take them... I have to go... they have to go... or it will tear all of us to pieces.

Lastly, problem 4. MONEY... I've next to none... and traveling to Mexico costs money.

I wasn't there when my father died. Moreover, I wasn't even on good terms with my father when he died. That's something I must live with every day of my life. And like the endless guilt I feel over my own flesh and blood not meeting the flesh and blood which breathed life unto me I tried not to think about that either. But if I can make this happen, as maybe some pathetic attempt for redemption from my father for not being there, I will be able to not only to bestow that guilt to Hypnos or Morpheus, but I will also gift two generations who are world apart with a link that will hopefully remain with them forever and be taken away to wherever my grandmother is going.