My Grandfather, Pedro Ortiz, passed away on Thursday morning. He was 93. It was a rough that day, but I’m doing a little better.
Let it be said that he was an amazing man and he accomplished a lot. His mother died when he was 8 and his father died when he was 13, at that point his family asked him to leave, since they couldn't take care of him anymore. He could have found work locally, I suppose, but that wasn't good enough. He packed up what little stuff he had and walked out of Mexico, working along the way, to the US to find work. He worked picking in New Mexico where he eventually met my grandmother, who was the daughter of his boss, a boss who found this young new immigrant not good enough for his daughter, even though he was a young immigrant himself not too long before. He eventually won his father-in-law to be over and they were married. My grandfather eventually moved to Southern California to try and get a better job in the steel industry. It paid off and he had enough to take care of his new family. He also eventually earned enough money to move his brothers and sisters, who had to have him leave so long ago, to America. That’s how my family ended up in the ol’ USA. This was his new home, though he never gave up his Mexican citizenship, and he never really spoke English around the house except to those grandkids that couldn't speak Spanish.
He told me his story for the first time (through his sometimes hard to understand accent) only 6 years ago, and then he followed it by telling me that that was why he respected me... ME ...because I left and I made my own way when the rest of my family decided to stay in California.
It was one of the greatest moments in my life.
He was a proud, strong man. He still lifted weights everyday and still fixed everything around the house himself. When the state took his drivers licence, he still defiantly drove. When his kids took his brandy and beer, he hid it in the shed out back. He started refusing to go to the doctor for his ailments some years ago. When I asked him why he wouldn't go:
He said, without hesitation, "Mijo, I've had a good life".
I'll miss him dearly.
