Fading Roots

It's been 29 years since we parted ways, but 21 since I last saw both of you.

Who am I to claim my Venezuelan roots when my accent has faded away?

Who am I to profess love for my country when I can't even make an arepa?

I'm just a child who left her homeland and never returned.

I still remember that last day in 1993 when we bid farewell.

You stood there, frozen in time, sadness etched upon your face.

Tears welled up in your eyes as we embraced.

That hug felt different, as if you wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Inside, you were dying, wishing we could stay, but you remained silent.

We clung to each other until she gently urged us to let go.

None of us wanted to release the other.

It was a struggle to part, and that hug will forever be etched in memory.

As I walked away, I smiled, but my heart was heavy with sorrow.

Deep down, I knew it was a final farewell.

Most of all, I was pained to see you sobbing, as if mourning at a funeral.

I had my siblings and mom, but you lost all of us in a single day.

I wanted to stay, but the decision was not mine to make.

I also wanted to go because we'd reunite with my dad, an exciting prospect.

Abuelo, your smile, your tears, your embrace, vividly replay in my mind.

I think of you often, sensing your watchful presence.

You've been my guardian angel since you passed away.

I haven't returned since 2001, uncertain when I will revisit.

Many words, foods, and traditions have faded from memory,

Yet, with a simple phone call, my mom can bring them back to life.

Abuelo, you and my abuela are the cherished memories of Venezuela.

Your hugs will forever reside in my heart, never to be forgotten.