A Note to Alice

Dear Grammy,

You seem to continue popping up during my time here in Nicaragua and I am happy to feel you in my heart, but also saddened that I can't write you a real post card and send it off knowing that you will receive it with the grin that I will never stop missing. My time here was made possible because of you and the spirit of education and adventure you passed along during your time on earth. I can't help but think of the story one woman told us at your memorial service when I get frustrated with the language barrier I keep facing, "The first night I was scared to go out and Alice said that was why we had to go out, was because we didn't know the language and that was the only way we would learn anything or have any fun". Every time I am tempted to hide I think to myself, it can only get better if I go out there and face it myself, even if I do embarrass myself more often than not.

During my time in Limay I thought of you most. It was a time of many highs and many lows, but also a place where death was a very different entity than in the U.S. I had many firsts there surrounding the idea of death and you were right by my side every time I confronted it, and I thank you for that. The anniversary of the revolution was held on the 19th of July and during that same night of wild celebration in the city of Managua there was a tragic loss for those in Limay. I can remember the moment it happened, I was playing cards with my host-sister (Idalia) and my two trip leaders Aleks and Maria when Idalia's daughter came running in with news of an attack. There was a group of people that decided they were going to take over the buses returning from the celebration and murder a large group of people who had attended the celebration. The bus they chose to attack was one from Limay and two women were murdered by gunfire. Luckily the bus driver, who had also received bullet wounds, continued driving the bus to safety keeping the rest of the bus out of harms way. Sadly, Limay lost two women they loved dearly that night, one of whom was a cousin of the family I was with. The entire town was in shock, but they all remained calm and strong for one another. During this time of sorrow I had the chance to see an entire town come together and support the families in their most difficult hours. A day later there were nighttime vigils at both the women's family homes along with two open caskets. Outside were hundreds of chairs for people to sit and talk, mourning however they chose to do so. The next morning there was a funeral procession around town to the graveyard, right down the road from my house. Once again hundreds of people flooded the street, following three large trucks, two carrying the caskets and family members along with one playing music for the procession. 

Your funeral was the first I have had the chance to attend and this was my second. They were very much opposite experiences for me, but the one similarity I kept finding was the amount of love I saw congregated in one place. I sometimes wonder if you ever realized how many lives you were able to touch during the 84 years you were alive, because once you were gone not only was your service flooded with people, but so was our mailbox, containing letters of condolences and remorse for not having the opportunity to be there.    

Anyway, I am babbling. I love you and miss you and I really hope one day I can create a life half as fulfilling as your own.

Your loving granddaughter,

Beth