A Lesson Learned.

When I was twelve my parents planned a road trip across country. They asked me if I wanted to go and I said no, I wanted to visit my grandfather in Puerto Rico. I had been there before and it was beautiful. I had heard all the stories my siblings would tell about the adventures they had when they visited and it sounded amazing. They painted beautiful pictures of ripe mangoes and creepy dilapidated aquariums with beastly fish just waiting to scare you. They played me home videos of bike rides and laughter at all the childhood antics. I was so excited I could not contain myself.

I packed my bags for ten days and I got on the plane all by myself. I even got to sit in the front because I was an "unaccompanied minor." As I got off the plane I was excited and nervous because I hadn't seen my grandfather in years. But when I saw him, he looked exactly the same as I remembered. He was old, wrinkly, and short but his uni brow was bushier than ever. His wife Hilda was there too. She was young and very sweet to me.

I remember walking into their house. It smelled like clean air and sunshine. Their couches were covered in that annoying plastic that always sticks to your legs when you get sweaty? I couldn't stand them and it was such a hot place. They gave me the guest room and I was so happy to be there, I unpacked my things and walked back into the hallway. The entire hallway was a collage of all my siblings and cousins at all ages and stages of their lives. But I was nowhere. I remember the sense of sadness. The loss. Even at twelve I felt terrible about myself. No one should ever experience those things. Not from their family who is supposed to love them unconditionally.

My grandfather is a strict catholic and believed that my mother should have stayed with her first husband. He even went as far as to keep her old wedding photo after her divorce and my birth. They could have put pictures up of me if I looked like my brother, who is fairer than some Caucasians, but I didn't look like him. I couldn't be passed off as my mother's first husband's child, so I was ignored, put away and hidden. They didn't have a baby picture, my second grade picture with a tooth missing or any of the pictures my mom had sent them. I didn't exist on his wall of pride and it made me feel like less than nothing.

I will always love my grandfather. He helped create the person I am today. On that day I learned that sometimes people are stupid. That they can be too caught up in the need to look right rather than do right by their own family. Religion and appearance should not go above your love and devotion to your family. How you look to your community should not affect how you treat a child. A child who could not help her circumstances. A child who would not exist without my mother and my father. I cannot help but feel bad for my grandfather because he allowed our relationship to be warped and distorted from fear and bias. From this experience I learned there should be nothing between the love of family. There is nothing more important than the people who should accept and love you, unconditionally.