Just reposting this story about Pop from my Holes In The Foam Blog, on the anniversary of his death.
Pop
Pop, and mastering fear….
So, that time of year rolls around again, the anniversary of Pop’s death. It’s been six years now, and I still wonder if I will ever get through one milestone unfazed. I always seem to think that the “next time” it will be easier or less taxing, but it just doesn’t seem to happen. At least not yet. 
Anyway, here I am, going through my usual introspective grieving period that I have now grown fairly accustomed to. I start looking for some inspiration on what to write about regarding Pop. On one hand, I have to be grateful for these milestone periods I go through regarding my parents. Because it seems to be the sole force that makes me have to sit down and write. (more…)
A funny Pop memory…
Dealing with the milestone dates always seem to take a different angle with me as each year goes by. Yeah, I went through my sad mopey period today on Pop’s birthday like I usually do. I get a bit quiet and reserved. Which this time was pretty easy to do, because I was by myself. Karen was in Caucasia visiting her parents, the passengers cleared out yesterday, and I was alone. Just me, and the Luce.
The strange thing this time is I spent most of the day having recurring memories about some of my funnier moments with Pop. There have been many of them, sure, but today, my memory chose to showcase a couple particular ones from my younger years. And one standout from that group seemed to get top billing. The funny thing is it was a memory I hadn’t thought about in a long time before today… here’s how it goes: (more…)
Pop…
Pop, a few months before his death...
Four years ago today, I lost my Pop. I guess I’m getting better at handling this particular date as each year passes. And this year, I even wondered if any prevailing thought or theme would enter my head enough to make me want to write about it. Yet again, here I am doing just that. And the prevailing theme for this year’s go-round, is that painful thing we can only call regret. (more…)
Grijalva Pereira dos Santos, June 6, 1925 – January 22, 2005, pt. 2
A recent picture of Pop
My father was born in Natal, Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil in 1925. He was one of 3 brothers, a half sister, and an adopted sister. His father was an officer in the Brazilian navy, and his mother was a seamstress. He did a stint in the Brazilian Army reserve right out of high school, but was never called to active duty during WWII (the Brazilian Army was part of the Allied Forces). He attended business school in Rio De Janeiro, and at the age of 22, he was appointed manager of a major bank in Rio.
He worked at the bank for several years, until he decided that he was being passed over for promotion too many times, and walked away from his career. He then put his savings together and bought a popular bar and restaurant in Rio. He was quite successful, and the place soon gained a solid reputation. He married relatively young and had 2 kids by the time he was 30, Gilda and Gustavo, both whom still live in Brazil.
