See Beyond – July 2019

20 July/August 2019

Time actually does heal wounds. Unbearable grief,

eventually diminishes and you adapt to a new

normal. When my grandfather first passed away,

my memories were all so fresh. After a while, they

started to fade. I’d go into his garage just to see his

workshop and carefully organized tools. The smell

of the car engine and the metal from his tools, the

pleasant scent of the nearby laundry room brought

me soothing comfort.

Not long ago, while searching for a photograph,

I opened the little wooden box on my dresser. It

was filled with random objects I had carelessly put

away when my grandfather died. The old electrical

cord he had wound and tied up multiple times,

to show me the proper technique, was still in the

same spot. His gold cufflinks that he wore when

he married my grandmother and at every other

fancy event he ever attended were in their black,

shiny container. His favorite Looney Tunes silk

tie was neatly folded and tucked into a corner. A

bottle of cologne, with its strong scent, was still

half full, just as he had left it. Finally, I found the

photograph that was taken shortly after we found

out he was sick.

I remember the day we spent stuck in that work-

shop. My father told my older brother and me

that my grandfather would be coming to pick us

up soon. Tuto, that was his nickname, was not fun

to hang out with. In my five-year-old mind, he

was kind of old and boring, a stickler for rules and

order, always reminding me to stop running, close

the door, turn off the lights. I immediately asked

where he was taking us. I doubted it would be to

the movies or the arcade. Those were the kind of

places my uncle would take us. My father wouldn’t

tell us what Tuto had planned, only that he want-

ed to spend time with us. When we arrived at my

grandparents’ house, my grandpa said we were

going to build small storage boxes, one for each

of us. I didn’t want a wooden box. I would have

rather been anywhere else than in that hot, stuffy

garage, cutting, sanding, nailing, and staining.

By Julian Alexander Vazquez

When we arrived at my grandparents’ house, my grandpa said

we were going to build small storage boxes, one for each of us.

I didn’t want a wooden box.

and the

LittLe Wooden Box