And so it goes...
I am not a poet, nor a man who is good with the pen. I generally hide my feelings, but on occasion let things get to me. This morning my abuelito took his last breath. I am not really sad though, and I don't find that strange. I think this maybe the case for several different reasons. One, that if I live half the life of my abuelito I know I will have lived a great life and would not want anyone to morn my loss, but celebrate my great life. Another reason is that he leaves such a legacy on this planet, lives that he touched, family that he raised, and differences he made. I will always continue to see Enrique in my father; his strength, his wisdom, his caring, it all lives on....

Death is a strange thing, but it does not mean the end of someone. It just means the end of new things for them. It means now they are a memory, and with my abuelito his memory is a great one. He touched many lives, raised a great family, and saw more things then anyone would of ever expected from a little carpenter from Oruro, Bolivia.

I am even happier now that he got to come to the USA for one last time. He saw his two American great grandchildren, which means the world to me that he met Novali. More importantly that she met him. Here are two pics:

Abuelito: Novali is introducing her toys to him. This was in July in Chicago.

Abuelito and Abuelita playing with Valerie.

I don't know what to write. There will be no funeral here in the USA for us to attend. I wrote a little about him in a blog two weeks ago. Miguel also wrote something great about him on Abuelito's last birthday. Those two stories can be found here: edit: I just added two more

Miguel: Don Enrique: 03.25.2003 - Ciao Enrique: 09.17.2004
Sam: For Better or Worse: 09.03.2004
Andres: A Picture: 09.17.2004

My abuelito was an eccentric man, I know you might say most older men become that way, but he was a little over the top. If you read Miguel's story you know that abuelito always carried a small pencil and notepad in the pocket of his shirt. Remnant of his carpenter days I am sure. Well either way, my dad sent him as a gift a few years back some polo shirts. However there was a problem, the shirts did not have pockets! Fortunately the shirts where a little long for abuelito (he is not even 5 foot tall), so he took them to his tailor and had pockets cut from the extra material at the bottom. His shirts now had a pocket for his pencil and notepad, but when untucked had a pocket shaped hole at the bottom. Classic Enrique Centellas.

Thanks to everyone for their support during this hard time.