How to Feel Alive

According to my abuela that lived to 98.

Welcome back to Brazenface, a newsletter about my year facing all my fears. Recently, I faced a scary truth of life: life ends. Last week, my beautiful abuela passed away at the beautiful age of 98.

I grew up with my grandmother living in our home. When I was asked to give the eulogy at her funeral, I decided I didn’t want to tell another sad story about loss. I wanted to celebrate her vibrant life by sharing what she’s showed me about living. This is the piece I wrote and read—plus a photo series of my favorite (and often expletive-filled) abuela sayings.

Lovers often make great muses. But so do five-foot-tall, hip-shaking Cuban grandmothers with Alzheimer’s Disease. 

My abuela, Odecta Leonarda Leopoldina Sazarazua Lambarri Cardenas Canal, was my inspiration. And not only because she was capable of introducing herself like this with a straight face. 

My abuela inspired me most of all because she chose to chase joy. Because even though she was bound to a walker and nearing 100, she danced by herself every single day. 

Odecta Canal was unlike any other grandma I know. For one, she was really old. She was also a little crazy—in the cutest, kookiest, Cuban-est way possible. According to her, she was 40-going-on-41. She was a Flirt with a capital F that didn’t know it was acceptable to hear music and not shimmy her shoulders. She loved men and hated vegetables. And like the Cuban Betty White, she had this special knack for playing dead and playing pranks on unsuspecting dinner guests.

The abuela I got to grow up with was silly, playful, perfect. She was so much more than just my grandma: she was also my childhood roommate, my favorite hugger, my teacher. In addition to teaching me how to speak Spanish by swallowing all my consonants, my abuela taught me how to feel alive.

But what exactly does that even entail?

For starters, shake your hips as often as humanly possible. 

Meanwhile, chase your azúcar every chance you get. For my abuela, that meant dancing without shame to every kind of beat from reggaeton to deep house. Dancing was her azúcar, or sugar—her source of sweetness and joy. Every time she reached peak dancing pleasure, she’d let the world know it by screaming “¡Azúuuuuucar!”

Speaking of sugar, eat the things that make you happy. Abuela’s diet wasn’t traditionally “good for you.” But it was good for her. So she ate pound cake at 8am and a healthy Cuban diet of white rice, tostones, and lots and lots of pork.

Be kind and open to everyone—even if you don’t speak the same language. Although my abuela fled communist Cuba and came to the United States over 50 years ago, she never learned English. Yet she could still befriend any waiter or nurse that came her way. Her secret? Smiling. Giggling. And accepting everyone as they are. 

Embrace everyday romance. Sometimes I’d catch my abuela slow-dancing by herself. Or putting on red lipstick just because. Her quiet self-love sent a striking message: you don’t need to rely on someone else to feel a romantic thrill.

If someone looks beautiful, tell them. My abuela might not have remembered my name, but she never forgot to tell me I was “La niña linda de la casa.” The beautiful girl of the house. It’s one thing to see beauty, it’s a rare gift to actually tell it to a person’s face. Try it. You’ll both feel happy.

Sing outside the shower. My abuela couldn’t hit high notes; she attempted opera anyway. Hearing her sing made everyone—including strangers—smile big.

Be playful. Smack your loved ones’ butts. Hide peoples’ phones. Stick your tongue out at the Amazon delivery man. Or play tag with your 27-year-old grandson in the middle of lunch. There’s no age limit for being silly and letting loose.

Above all, live la vida loca. My abuela once told me, “Quiero vivir la vida entera. Quiero vivir la vida loca.” I want to live a whole life. I want to live a crazy life. Odecta Canal made it to 98. I can confirm she was crazy about living life until her very last breath. 

If you want to feel alive, channel the world’s cutest Cuban grandmother. Don’t hold back. Chase your joy. And when the Odecta spirit moves you, throw your hands up in the air and yell with all your might, “¡Azúuucar!”

It’s a reminder that life is sweet. That my abuela’s life was sweetest of all.

Abuela Proverbs: A Photo Commemoration

I couldn’t celebrate my abuela without celebrating her famous vernacular. During quarantine, my dad turned her sayings into abuela raps on Soundcloud. For her memorial, I printed and created a series of abuela proverb trading cards. These were the phrases she’d repeat—and yell!—again and again. They’re paired with my favorite photos that I’ve ever taken of New Jersey’s top model: my grandma.

Used to describe someone that looks innocent but can’t be trusted. This Cuban idiom literally means: She looks like she doesn’t wet anything but she’s a soaker.

This loosely translates to: Go fuck yourself. Abuela often said it with a giggle.

My abuela was an optimist. She said this phrase at least four times a day. I’ll miss hearing her sweet positivity: I’m on a path filled with happiness and hope.

Another Cuban classic: Tell me who you hang out with and I’ll tell you who you are.

Apologies in advance for this translation (Senile Cubans have dirty mouths): Shit, I shit on your mom.

One of my favorites to hear—and channel: Girl, don’t be dumb. Live your life!

That egg wants salt. That person is up to no good. (Though she cursed often, my abuela had a really pure heart.)

A dancer since her glory days in Havana, my abuela has been saying this for decades—and surprisingly, she never went bald: I’ve danced off all the hair on my head.

¡Qué viva Odecta Canal!
1923 - 2022

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Tatiana Odette Gallardo is a writer named after her grandmother, Odecta Canal. She trusts that up in heaven, there’s music, dancing, and a beaming abuela shaking her hips.