Lola Navarro
Born in Honda, Tolima. September 25, 1910 and educated in Bogota, Colegio de la Presentaciòn.
She was raised by three words: Trabajo, orden y economia. These words were in a plaque in the Navarro Bridge, financed by her grandfather Bernardo Navarro as a business venture to charge for the use of the bridge however because of the war of one thousand days, he was not able to charge any fees. However this bridge at that time was one of the few in Latin America. Now with this I also want to make note that I grew up listening to my grandmother the same words she heard. So yes no wasting, no laziness and no messy rooms. Plus a well rounded history of the political conflicts in Colombia. I learned so much from her when I was a kid. Her first love was Till Hess. They got married, had a child that was stillborn. Within a year Till died from a heart failure at 33. Then she met my grandfather Heli Morales Acero. They had 3 children. My grandmother left my ¨ irresponsible grandfather ¨
because he was all the time in the jungle documenting the indigenous life and not being present in the home. My grandmother moves to Cali and then to Barranquilla. She works in both cities and supports her children 100 percent. Her children gets married, have children and grandchildren. She was honest, sincere and most of all a good confidant. Anyone that confide in her, their secrets went to the grave with her. That was my grandmother. A woman of love, a woman of character. I love her.
She was raised by three words: Trabajo, orden y economia. These words were in a plaque in the Navarro Bridge, financed by her grandfather Bernardo Navarro as a business venture to charge for the use of the bridge however because of the war of one thousand days, he was not able to charge any fees. However this bridge at that time was one of the few in Latin America. Now with this I also want to make note that I grew up listening to my grandmother the same words she heard. So yes no wasting, no laziness and no messy rooms. Plus a well rounded history of the political conflicts in Colombia. I learned so much from her when I was a kid. Her first love was Till Hess. They got married, had a child that was stillborn. Within a year Till died from a heart failure at 33. Then she met my grandfather Heli Morales Acero. They had 3 children. My grandmother left my ¨ irresponsible grandfather ¨
because he was all the time in the jungle documenting the indigenous life and not being present in the home. My grandmother moves to Cali and then to Barranquilla. She works in both cities and supports her children 100 percent. Her children gets married, have children and grandchildren. She was honest, sincere and most of all a good confidant. Anyone that confide in her, their secrets went to the grave with her. That was my grandmother. A woman of love, a woman of character. I love her.
A Flower in the Garden of Love
What is love but a misunderstood sentiment? My grandmother loved in her way. She loved by giving up her dreams into a settled and chained existence created of false ideals of a time that was a tic-tac blade suspended by a bleak world of religious morals and not those natural to the soul.
My grandmother was trapped in two worlds, one that judges and the one inside her soul loved by God. Indeed she was and she is pure essence of Love. I see my grandmother as the heroin of many greek mythologies or novels or the women in the bible. In every pulsing instant of her life, she was loved, in love, love, betrayed, misunderstood, liked or disliked by her choices.
But what is a woman if she is not a mystery within a mystery doing the things that she believes in her soul to be right? I say this, because everyone has an opinion about my grandmother. They have a memorable and important remark to put into the space between seconds as if these words were going to last forever but lest rest assure that they last only in the selfish, bitter and fearful soul.
How can anyone judge anyone? I may ask. Are we that grand or perfect or unblemished to have the right that only life itself can hold on each of us? Can we put a blame as why we did not become who we were supposed to become in someone else's? I say to all this no.
My love for my grandmother goes beyond anyone can imagine. I adore her! As a kid I remember dying to go to sleepover at her home. She was sweet, hard, tough, caring, nurturing and much more. But I understood her. I saw a real kindness
that laid inside her stern exterior. Every night I spent with her, I had to ask her to tell me her childhood stories and all the stories that were part of an innocence that I did not know but only through her words. A time so far away from my child's perception but so next to her as it was only yesterday.
I am very lucky! Indeed I am. I had the best years of my grandmother to take into my yearning soul to learn the many things she did with a perfection as only one that is a magnificent creator knows.
With her I learned to contemplate the world that unfolded every morning with the songs of the birds, the colors and fragrances of the flowers, the splashes of lines, shapes and tones that painted the sky.
My Grandmother's love was selfless and misunderstood that is for sure. She gave her life to raised her children and grandchildren. She raised them as she thought it was fit. But if anyone dares to complain then you must be so smart and know that the real growing up is done by one's self.
If you did not become the person you were meant to be, it was not because of how you were raised, or loved. We reach our dreams by being just plain happy. Happy of having the opportunity to be part of this ride called life. Happy by knowing that shedding fear from our true self is what allows us to become a free-spirit not bound by any moral rules of society but the moral rules of being a pure soul.
I celebrate my Grandmother's life by maintaining her alive inside me. She is with me at all times. I not only see her smile but I hear her laugh. A part of me is her. I am this woman, composed of the many women in my life. And besides my mother, my Grandmother is indeed the one that has touched my heart and soul in a way that only God knows.
My grandmother was trapped in two worlds, one that judges and the one inside her soul loved by God. Indeed she was and she is pure essence of Love. I see my grandmother as the heroin of many greek mythologies or novels or the women in the bible. In every pulsing instant of her life, she was loved, in love, love, betrayed, misunderstood, liked or disliked by her choices.
But what is a woman if she is not a mystery within a mystery doing the things that she believes in her soul to be right? I say this, because everyone has an opinion about my grandmother. They have a memorable and important remark to put into the space between seconds as if these words were going to last forever but lest rest assure that they last only in the selfish, bitter and fearful soul.
How can anyone judge anyone? I may ask. Are we that grand or perfect or unblemished to have the right that only life itself can hold on each of us? Can we put a blame as why we did not become who we were supposed to become in someone else's? I say to all this no.
My love for my grandmother goes beyond anyone can imagine. I adore her! As a kid I remember dying to go to sleepover at her home. She was sweet, hard, tough, caring, nurturing and much more. But I understood her. I saw a real kindness
that laid inside her stern exterior. Every night I spent with her, I had to ask her to tell me her childhood stories and all the stories that were part of an innocence that I did not know but only through her words. A time so far away from my child's perception but so next to her as it was only yesterday.
I am very lucky! Indeed I am. I had the best years of my grandmother to take into my yearning soul to learn the many things she did with a perfection as only one that is a magnificent creator knows.
With her I learned to contemplate the world that unfolded every morning with the songs of the birds, the colors and fragrances of the flowers, the splashes of lines, shapes and tones that painted the sky.
My Grandmother's love was selfless and misunderstood that is for sure. She gave her life to raised her children and grandchildren. She raised them as she thought it was fit. But if anyone dares to complain then you must be so smart and know that the real growing up is done by one's self.
If you did not become the person you were meant to be, it was not because of how you were raised, or loved. We reach our dreams by being just plain happy. Happy of having the opportunity to be part of this ride called life. Happy by knowing that shedding fear from our true self is what allows us to become a free-spirit not bound by any moral rules of society but the moral rules of being a pure soul.
I celebrate my Grandmother's life by maintaining her alive inside me. She is with me at all times. I not only see her smile but I hear her laugh. A part of me is her. I am this woman, composed of the many women in my life. And besides my mother, my Grandmother is indeed the one that has touched my heart and soul in a way that only God knows.