Free Return to Sender by Julia Álvarez Page A

last December. Her mother traveled back home to Mexico and got to see her right before she died. She's on her way back— the girls’ mother, that is,” Grandma adds, letting out a sigh.
    Tyler feels bad all over again that he didn't get to spend Gramps's last few hours with him in his garden. Gramps died right before summer vacation, on Tyler's last day of school. Gramps had gone out midmorning to check on his peppers and tomatoes, and by the time Grandma called him for lunch, there was no bringing him back. Grandma found Gramps stretched out in the pathway as if he'd waited to have his heart attack until he'd laid himself carefully down so as not to fall on top of his fragile seedlings. Tyler came home that June day to find his mom standing by the mailbox, waiting with the news. Besides the day of Dad's accident, the day Gramps died is the worst day of Tyler's life so far.
    Sometimes, Tyler will find himself thinking, What if? What if it had been one day later and classes were done?
    What if he had been helping plant the garden when Gramps had his heart attack? Tyler would probably have been able to call for help in time to save Gramps, just like Tyler helped save Dad's life after his accident. These are the kinds of what- ifs that make Mom say Tyler mustn't dwell on Gramps's death. Best to move on.
    “So anyhow, dear, I'm glad you dropped by so I could show you before we take it down in a few days.” Grandma suddenly looks bereft, like she might be losing Gramps all over again. “I don't know … “ She hesitates and glances over at her husband's picture, trying to decide something. “Maybe I'll just take away the perishables like the pie on ac-count of ants. But leave this little spot for us to remember him.” Grandma looks relieved. “Anytime you're missing him, Tyler dear, you just come over.”
    Tyler can't help feeling remorse. He has been avoiding Grandma's house so as not to bump into the Mexicans. But that doesn't mean that he hasn't been feeling a big black hole in the center of his life. “I've really been missing Gramps,” he admits, and then, as if that admission uncorks the rest of his feelings, he tells his grandmother how Gramps is watching over him. How sometimes the stars seem to form his grandfather's face. Other times, Tyler'll see a shooting star just as he's thinking, Gramps, are you there? As he talks, his grandmother keeps smiling and nodding, which encour-ages Tyler, so that he goes on to mention the phone calls and all the stuff he was not going to talk to her about. Like about the Mexicans.
    “Gramps wouldn't have let Dad break the law, would he?” Tyler glances over at his grandfather's picture on the table. It's as if Tyler is hoping Gramps will settle this matter for them all.
    “Actually, dear, your uncle Larry's had Mexicans for a while over at his place,” Grandma explains. “Your dad wouldn't hear of it, until, of course, the accident made him reconsider. But when your uncle Larry told us, you know what Gramps said? He said, ‘We Paquettes came down from Canada back in the 1800s. Nobody but nobody in America got here—excepting the Indians—without somebody giving them a chance.’ That's what he said. ‘Course, he would have preferred that Uncle Larry wait till it was legal. But the cows can't wait for their milking till the politicians get the laws changed. They'd still be waiting.”
    Tyler can't believe his own grandfather might have been some sort of revolutionary rebel! Like that priest that Mari told about in class for Mexican Independence Day. How he rang the church bell, waking the whole sleepy town to fight for their freedom.
    “So, honey, I think Gramps would understand,” Grandma is saying. And that same tender smile she had when she was gazing at Gramps's picture she now has on her face as she gazes over at Tyler.

    Before Tyler goes home that day, Grandma invites him to come to supper next Wednesday, November second—the actual Day of the Dead, the three