Losing a grandparent is never easy. My Abuelito passed away at the end of last year and it caught me, and continues to catch me by surprise. I forget sometimes that he is gone, and then I’ll suddenly remember. And feel sad all over again. 

My grandfather, like most of my family, came to the United States from Cuba. In his case he came in the Mariel Boatlift, the mass exodus from Cuba by boat that took place in 1980. He braved terrifying waters and the fear of the unknown in order to build a life here in the United States. I have always admired his courage, and the courage of all my family. I am here living a life of freedom because of their sacrifice and strength.

I want to remember him, I want to preserve their stories. And for me, that means trying to take my memories and commit them to text, to a drawing. So that I can remember, and can pass on to my children, the memories of my Abuelitos house in Kendall, Miami, FL. The house with the gorgeous tropical greenery and trees, with the lovely tile floor, the colorful walls painted and decorated with black and white photos. 

So now I begin work on my children’s book, a process I don’t know anything about to be honest. I hope to document that process here and on my Instagram, and share with you what I learn along the way. And in the process, preserve the memories and legacies of my Abuelitos, their little house in Miami, and their love of cafecito ☕️♥️