I experienced something tonight that has been pretty rare in my life, but has always been cherished. With my grandma leaving for California this week, my extended family decided to come visit her. My great-aunt said she was worried she would never see my grandma again, so she decided to come. Since she did, all my great-uncles decided they would come too. Jordan and I went to dinner with them all and we had a blast. I always treasure those get togethers because they happen so few and far between. It was a really bittersweet, impromptu reunion. My uncle Alfonso (my grandmother's brother) passed away a few months ago (his wife and my grandmother are extremely close) and so there was an empty seat at the table. My aunt is still having a hard time but she was happy to see everyone; especially my grandma. For me, it was also bittersweet for many reasons. The last time I had seen most of this family was 7 years ago, for my grandma's 80th birthday. Every time they come, she lights up so much that I think she really reverse ages by 10 or 20 years. It really makes me happy. Sadly though, I was struck by the gravity of my grandparents leaving. They mean a lot to me and it is really hard to see them move away. Wow, this is going to be harder than I thought.
The other reason I wanted to post something was a story about one of my uncles. He was telling us how 4 of the brothers were in the military during world war 2. One was in the Air Force, one in the Navy, and 2 in the Army (although my uncle Eddie, the one telling the story, was originally in the New Mexico National Guard when they made them enter the Army). My uncle Eddie was in the Army in the Philippines when he was captured. He was a POW in the infamous Bataan Death March. The experience was so horrendous that he rarely talks about it, often cannot remember many details, and to this day he won't eat fish or rice. He was interviewed for a paper in Kansas once and all I have been able to find about it is this snippit:
"Eddie Graham, 90, of Wichita, was among those who survived the Bataan Death March in World War II. He plans to attend the discussion tonight.
He was part of a starving and exhausted U.S. force at Bataan in the Philippines who surrendered to the Japanese. Thousands of these soldiers were marched on a 90-mile trail that included deprivation, brutality and torture.
Those who survived faced years of brutal captivity; one-third died before the war's end.
"As long as I kept walking and didn't get out of line, I was all right," he said. "I had malaria at the time. Of the 2,700 men in my unit, about half came back alive. They died of mistreatment, malnutrition and sickness."
He was beaten when he took a drink of cold water. He has no memory of it.
"I survived by faith," Graham said. "I made up my mind I was going to come back."
-Map of Bataan Death March
Anyway, this is getting way longer than I wanted, I just felt compelled to share my experience tonight and a little about my great-uncle Eddie.
~vaya con dios
