Querida Abuela Mia,
History doesn't repeat itself; the same thing never happens twice, but here I am, for the second time, telling you happy birthday after I already know how the circle of your life so perfectly closed itself when you jumped into the sky.
Honestly, I don't even think I need to write anything to you because I feel the twinkle of your laugher right next to my ear one hundred times a day.
Since I have nothing to give you -- besides my laughter, companionship, and some stories you'd rather I'd write in Spanish anyway jajaja -- I have a request for you.
Yes, a request, it's a new tradition.
This past December I gave Zack a scooter on MY birthday, so I've decided to proclaim it tradition to GIVE on our birthdays, and so yes, I'm asking you for something.
Your daughter and husband still sit together under the coconut tree in the backyard, feeling the silence of your absence, and wishing (sometimes in silence, sometimes with their actions) for time to move quickly backwards or forwards.
Can you please shake a coconut down on them today, maybe scare them a little?
I know they'll know it was from you (maldita), not from me (sinverguenza).