A Remarkable Man - by Mariela Moya

Whenever espresso is brewing, it brings me bittersweet memories. It transports me back in time and the first thing that comes to mind is the image of my grandfather in front of his kitchen stove in the middle of the late afternoon weekend ritual. Also it is a reminder of what he was doing when he took his last breath.
Death, the unwanted guest paid him a visit on a Sunday late afternoon while he was brewing what would be his last coffeepot of Cuban espresso. For the most part, it was a good death because it came unexpectedly and he had lived a healthy life for eighty three years. Of course, this didn’t mean that he wasn’t terribly missed.


Tomas Fernandez was born in the province of Cienfuegos, Cuba which is located in the southeast part of the island. He married my grandmother in his early twenties who according to him was the prettiest blue-eyed girl in town. Blue eyes that I was lucky enough to inherit out of his three granddaughters, something he always pointed out that obviously made me feel special.


Tomas fathered three kids, one boy and two girls. My mother was his older child. My grandfather was a man of average height with a strong build, wide shoulders and muscular biceps. He acquired his physique while loading ships at the town’s bay and remained the same way for the rest of his life. His skin was permanently tanned and wrinkled, a sign of the arduous work he did, exposed to the sun for so many years. He wasn’t a man of many words, but well known for his good actions throughout his hometown. He never hesitated to lend a helping hand to his neighbors or co-workers. That’s when his self learned trade as a handyman came into use. Over the years, he made an extended collection of obsolete artifacts and tools that he kept in his workshop in the back of his modest home.

He took pride repairing most of these antiques and as far as I can remember he was in the middle of one of these projects. He usually smiled, except when he was upset. Then total silence would take over. He had very conservative ideas and like most old fashioned fathers, he resented giving his young daughters away in marriage. The family wedding portraits were proof and his facial expressions gave him away. He looked almost as he was experiencing some sort of physical pain. It was typical of him not to voice his opinion, but his thoughts were usually written all over his face.


Like other families in Cuba, our family was also affected by separation. I never really knew my grandfather’s political view of Cuba. I imagine that he chose to be oblivious and carry on. Unlike Tomas, his children did not agree with the communist regime and one by one, left the country to conquer the American dream. That included his only grandchildren, my two older sisters and me. According to some other relatives, my grandparents were devastated. I don’t even want to imagine the silence left behind after our departure. That was probably what led them to make the decision to follow us after a few years. It may have been painful for them to leave behind what took them a lifetime to build and start off a new life in their late sixties. I still remember the day we picked them up at the airport; a lot of tears were shed.

Family members managed to put a cozy apartment together for them in New Jersey, where we all relocated. Later on, he took over a small walking closet in the living room and once again began his new collection of unidentified objects. Both my grandparents refused to be a burden, so they both took on jobs despite their old age. My grandpa worked part time in a hardware store, while my grandma started babysitting.


Once the family reunited, we re-established our old tradition of family get-togethers every Sunday. As a teenager I went through a stage where I dreaded these family gatherings and managed from time to time to escape them. But, as I started my own family, once again I enjoyed spending time with my loved ones. I never even considered the idea of my grandparents not being around. Especially, my grandpa who possessed good health and time didn’t take much of a toll on his physical appearance over the years.

On the other hand, my grandma’s mental health did start to deteriorate and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. My grandfather was an emotional wreck, which was unusual of him. Later on, he got on his feet and took over the role of a caretaker. He disapproved of any outside help from a nurse or homemaker, even after the family’s continuous attempts to hire them. He cleaned, cooked, bathed and assisted my grandmother on a daily basis for the next several years.


As usual his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren paid him weekend visits. Every time we walked through his door, he would light up like a Christmas’ tree and immediately start brewing his signature espresso. My grandfather’s priority was always his family. I recognize what he sacrificed just to witness his grandchildren turn into adults and live to meet his great-grandchildren. I thank him for all the unconditional love and the strong family values that he once taught me. He was the foundation of our family and even if he is no longer present in his human form, he will forever live within us.