Abuelo’s Final Sacrifice
Inspired by True Events
Deported to Havana After a Life in the U.S.
Abuelo arrived in Miami, Florida as a 10 year-old political refugee from Havana, Cuba, fleeing with his family the terror of Castro. From age 10 to 20, Abuelo picked citrus 10 hours a day, loading crates that weighed more than he. Unable to attend school, Abuelo married his bride, also a refugee, and spent the rest of his life pushing a lawn mower for the wealthy American families in Miami. He specialized in crafting Disney animals out of hedge bushes, which the children loved as they were bused to their private schools. He and his wife made one mistake of returning to Havana for the death of his mother. Last week ICE raided a Super Mercado in Miami. Seeing the ICE squadron circling the market, Abuelo asked his grandson to lead grandmother out the backdoor, as she legally blind due to cataracts. Abuelo laid himself and his walker across the doorway of the market to buy time for his bride. As ICE took his retinal photo and ran his data in the immigration database, they saw him flagged as refugee status “invalid” due to his return to Havana for the funeral. As Abuelo shuffled, shackled hands to feet, onto the C5 Galaxy military transport to Guantanamo Bay, he is comforted that by his “final sacrifice” so his bride of many years would die a free woman in the the country that he loved. Dios te Bendiga! (Abuelo is Spanish for “grandfather.”)
La Balada del Abuelo en Guardia
(Con Estribillos)
{Sung and played in the style of Los Tigres Del Norte}
De La Habana huyó con diez años,
con lágrimas en el tren.
Llevaba el alma en las manos
y el miedo bajo la piel.
Estribillo I:
El Abuelo llora, el Abuelo va,
con sol en la espalda y sin mirar atrás.
Callado lucha por su porvenir,
la tierra ajena lo hace sufrir.
Bajo el sol cortó la naranja,
el hambre era su motor.
Ni un niño ni adolescente,
era esclavo sin rencor.
Las tijeras eran pinceles,
sus arbustos, animalitos,
los niños lo veían en los buses,
sonriendo a sus monitos.
Estribillo II:
El Abuelo crea, el Abuelo da,
no pide gloria ni pedirá.
Con manos duras y corazón fiel,
moldea esperanza en cada nivel.
A su esposa también refugiada
la amó sin pedir perdón.
Una casa humilde en Miami
se llenó de tradición.
Volvieron solo una vez,
por la madre que murió.
Y sin saber, marcaron su paso
como traición al amor.
Estribillo III:
El Abuelo cruza, las luces van,
las leyes cambian sin compasión más.
Lo que es humano no importa ya,
si el papel no dice la verdad.
En el mercado aquel día
llegó ICE como ciclón.
El nieto tomó a la abuela
y él se volvió bastión.
“Tú llévala por atrás,
que no puede ya mirar.”
Y con su andador temblando
tapó la puerta sin hablar.
Estribillo IV:
El Abuelo cubre, el Abuelo es ley,
con su cuerpo frágil dijo: “No pasaréis”.
Con brazos flacos hizo un paredón,
por la libertad y por el amor.
La máquina escaneó sus ojos,
el sistema dijo: “No.”
Por ese viaje inocente
lo llevaron sin perdón.
En Guantánamo no lloró,
ni alzó queja ni temor.
Sabía que su sacrificio
le dio alas a su amor.
Estribillo V:
El Abuelo parte, pero aquí está,
en cada arbusto, en la libertad.
No hay cárcel fría ni militar
que pueda su alma encarcelar.
Hoy la tienda tiene velas,
un mural junto al portón:
la abuela mira las formas
con lágrimas y emoción.
Los niños cuentan su historia,
los viejos cantan su voz.
Y en cada rezo susurran:
“Dios te bendiga, Abuelo, con honor.”
Estribillo Final:
El Abuelo vive, el Abuelo va,
en cada paso de la libertad.
Su nombre cruza la frontera cruel—
¡no hay jaula que encierre a un fiel!
The Ballad of Abuelo on Watch {English Translation}
(With Refrains)
From Havana he fled at just ten years,
Tears on a midnight train.
His soul tucked deep inside his fists,
His skin engraved with pain.
Refrain I:
Abuelo weeps, Abuelo walks,
With sun behind and silence talks.
He fights with hands, not flags or might,
And bears the cost of seeking light.
Beneath the sun he pulled the fruit,
Hunger as his guide,
No childhood dreams, no games to play,
Just toil he could not hide.
His shears became a painter’s brush
For lion, mouse, and dove,
The children passed on yellow buses,
But never knew his love.
Refrain II:
Abuelo shapes, Abuelo gives,
He asks for nothing as he lives.
With rugged hands and steady grace,
He makes a home in foreign place.
He loved a girl who bore the same
Exile in her soul.
They built a life with steady hands
And dreams beyond control.
They made one trip to say goodbye
To mother laid to sleep.
But borders watched and wrote it down—
A mark that runs too deep.
Refrain III:
Abuelo strays, the laws awake,
A record sealed, a cruel mistake.
What’s human now the rules erase,
With ink that smears a sacred place.
The market buzzed on humid day,
When ICE flew in a hurricane.
He saw the net begin to form—
The storm of hate insane.
“Take her out back,” he told the boy,
“She can’t see through the smoke.”
Then with his walker, heart, and frame,
He formed a human spoke.
Refrain IV:
Abuelo shields, Abuelo stays,
His fragile form a wall that sways.
His bones were bent, but still he stood,
For one last stand, for one last good.
The scanner read the color red,
The code said: “He’s no more.”
For mourning once his native soil,
He paid with shackled door.
But as they bound him hand to foot,
And led him far away,
He smiled to know his love was free
To see another day.
Refrain V:
Abuelo gone, but still he’s near,
In every leaf, his voice we hear.
No soldier’s cage or bitter law
Can dull the truth of what they saw.
Now candles light the corner store,
A mural on the wall—
A woman old, her vision blurred,
Still listens to his call.
The children point, the elders pray,
And stories softly rise—
Where whispers say beneath the moon,
“Abuelo never dies.”
Final Refrain:
Abuelo lives, Abuelo stays,
In sacrifice and quiet blaze.
No border fence, no steel, no stone—
Can chain the love he called his own.
De Colores,*
Pastor Jim
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