My Abuelo

Pictures are important. This is the last picture taken of my Grandfather, Alejandro Becerra. I last saw him at Thanksgiving, and snapped this shot of him looking at Sofia. He was really sad because he was too weak to hold her, but happy that he could still play with her and see her.

My abuelito died last Saturday. He was an amazing man. As my family sat around laughing and crying and remembering him, my uncles told us a story of how he defended his family.

In Honduras my grandpa was the boss of over a thousand men. He had worked his way up from working in the banana fields since he was 12 or 13. Since he was in his early twenties, a lot of the other workers resented having him as their boss and didn't do the work they were supposed to do. My abuelito said, "Fine, but I'm not going to pay you to do nothing." And when payday came around he had all their checks held.

The men were angry and a few hundred of them gathered around his house at night yelling and cursing at my abuelito to come out and face them. They brought their machetes and were slapping them against the railroad tracks sends sparks flying. My abuelito told my uncles and my grandma to hide in the back of the house, then he moved all their furniture to try to block the bullets in case they started firing.

The mob kept yelling for him so he opened the door with his pistol in his hand and told them "There are a lot of you here tonight. You know I can't stop you all, but I'm taking at least six of you with me so who wants to be the first?"

Nobody stepped forward, and they all went to work the next day.

My little abuelito worked so hard for his family. This man who was the boss of thousands in Honduras, came to the U.S. and worked for pennies so his sons could have a better life. He was no saint. He had his faults, but I love him and I'm going to miss him.

This is the last picture of my abuelo. When I look at it I see in him my heritage, my past, and in Sofia I see my future. Like I said, pictures are important.