My Grandma Prays

My grandma’s name is Socorro; that’s Spanish for relief. She is 88 years old and spends most of her day praying. When she wakes up, she likes to stay in bed for a couple of hours and read through her prayer books with the aid of a magnifying glass. She does this every day. She says that she knows most of her prayers by heart, but sometimes she forgets a word and gets stuck, which is due to her poor cerebral blood circulation. Because of this, and because of her fatigued body, she doesn’t have chores at home anymore. Since my grandfather died, when my father was only eight, she has been the head of the household and her main responsibility was to make sure that the family was well fed. And she did this diligently, even when the family’s number reached 15 people (not counting unexpected guests who would always drop by). A few years ago she renounced her role in the kitchen because she’d realized that she couldn’t keep up anymore, she would burn the rice or turn the oven on instead of the stove the latter almost caused a fire in the house: twice! Which was sad because her body and her mind were in fast decline.

After my Grandmother resumes her morning prayers, she takes her birds outside and feeds them. She also eats her breakfast. Then she goes back to her room and takes out her books again and quietly prays to herself. From time to time, she watches television in her bed. And every three days, once the sun is down, she waters her plants. Around 5pm, she takes merienda (coffee and sweet bread) and winds back slowly to her bed. My grandmother stopped leaving the house five years ago, she even stopped going to church. She’d rather prefer to watch Mass on television on her rocking chair. She looks at the screen with complete immersion and faith. She has reached this age where looking back weights down on her and looking into the future is a dead-end. She has lost hope. Nobody can turn back time and she knows this. She knows that she will die. Some days she wakes up completely deaf. Her vision is past blurry. Food tastes insipid. She hurts even to stand up.

My Grandmother was born, grew up and lives in the North of Mexico. People here have very traditional values. They are known for being conservative, and Mexico has always been a Catholic State (in the 1970’s 96% of the population denominated itself as Roman Catholic, today that number its just above 82%). I’m not surprised with my Grandmother’s behavior since for elderly Mexican women this is the norm and not the exception. Mexico has always been a land of beliefs in the natural and the supernatural. In pre-Columbian civilizations our ancestor maintained a strong connection with the their gods and their dead. And some costumes have remained the same. At my Grandmother’s house there is always a candle lit for those who have recently departed. The walls are covered with pictures of lesser gods or “Saints.” Rosaries hang from the walls and there are two main altars stacked with plastic figures, glass sculptures, flowers, images and prayers.

Before falling to sleep my Grandmother prays. She prays for all the blessing of the day. She says that she prays for my father who lives far away in the States; she prays for my troubled brother who disappeared for two years without a trace; she prays for my uncle who has cirrhosis and almost bled to death, twice; she prays for my cousin who lives alone in Canada; she prays for the family woes; she prays when she loses a relative so that their soul may find heaven; she prays for our dead; she prays for her health and her remaining days, and I know that she prays for me too.

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My Grandma Prays