Where I was born and lived for the first 2 years of my life.
Where both sets of my grandparents lived.
Where I spent every Christmas as a child and some of my summers.
Where my Grandma Betty taught me to drive on the back roads when I was 12.
My Grandma Betty died when I was 13.
My paternal grandparents died many years ago.
My Papa Don and his wife have now decided to move north to an assisted living home.
She is getting up in years.
My Papa has Alzheimer's.
So, over Labor Day Weekend, my mom and dad, brother and his family, and the girls and I, went to Nogales for the very last time. No one in my family lives there anymore. That is a sad thing to have to say. Not because it is a place I miss or want to go back to. But, because I went knowing that because my grandpa is moving too far away for an affordable or easy-to-take trip, this would be the last time I would see him. His Alzheimer's has taken most of him away, over the last year especially. He didn't even know who I was this time. He didn't know his grandchildren. So, I guess I saw him for the last time a long time ago. But, one last time, I was able to hug him, tell him I loved him and say good-bye.