The oldest of the Romo children Jorge and Nancy witnessed and endured the most from us siblings. Being born into a world where our parents where young, unexperienced, and immigrants they faced challenges that I or my other siblings never had to.
My parents where about 15 and 16 years old when they had Jorge. My mom raised him with the help my tio (her brother) and my dad was working somewhere (I don’t know the exact details of who was in Mexico and who was in the states). Jorge experienced crossing the border with my mom and my tia (that will be another story to write about) when he was a little kid. He first met my dad when he was two years old. My dad was working on a ranch somewhere in CA with friends and family and my mom moved to where he was at. Jorge was a very white kid, he had blue eyes, lose curly hair, and a smile that would brighten the room (he never lost that smile). What should have been a wonderful time for father, mother, and son was hijacked by rumors from others saying that he wasn’t my dads kid. Now my dad is dark, has black hair, nappy little fro, and brown eyes, the complete opposite of what Jorge looked like, and as a kid Jorge heard those rumors. Those rumors from people who don’t matter altered a pice of him and he carried that with him to adulthood. Jorge was a smart kid growing up, he loved to read books and to learn, walking the streets of the Mission, playing baseball with his friends and when time came he was an awesome big brother to Nancy. The second born, Nancy, was Jorges little “brother” more than a sister. With stories of Jorge telling Nancy that a mud pie was chocolate, going to mass with my Mama Lupe (Grandma), not being able to leave the table until they finished their food, or even running and trying to get a way from a whipping they had each other. They had the opportunity to witness our family (parents, uncles, aunts, cousins) all together at parties and having a good time. They had the opportunity to live and see San Francisco and the Mission in a time where gentrification was not a thing but they also had to witness my parents fight, yell, and hit one another.
Fast forwarding. Nancy is in middle school and Jorge in high school. My parents have two more daughters, Edith and Yolanda, and two more sons, Roman and me. They moved from living in the Mission (SF) to living in Daly City in a small downstairs house. My parents had a room, Jorge slept in the living room, and the Girls/ Roman where in another room (you could say it was a second living room idk honestly). Because my mom had me right after Roman Nancy took a helping hand in raising Roman. Jorge was in high-school and by this time he helps form a local gang in Day City called “Fog Town DC” if Im correct. The only democratic gang in the area they lived their lives. Being kicked out of Jefferson he ended up going to a continuation school called Thornton/ Wilderness. Even during this time Jorge loved to learn and would devour books and knowledge. Being a natural born leader his friends followed suit. They would help start their school’s garden, help make path ways in San Bruno Mt, and would go camping. They were a breed of their own no matter if it was in class, walking the streets, or causing trouble somewhere or starting rumbles they where their own and every now and again he would play with me and Roman or teach us something. Nancy loved high school! We’ll always make fun of her because she was all about school spirit. She was part of the cool kids even if she denies it she was one of the cool kids. I remember always seeing her friends and I was always in awe of all of them. The sweet one of the group who had no problems with anyone at least on her behalf. She was a student and also worked. She would read to us and scare us and be safe place for us.
Now we will look at their adult lives. Jorge didn’t go to college, the option wasn’t there for him not because he wasn’t smart but because the lack of knowledge of options and opportunities weren’t there along with the lack of support. He really could have done great and accomplished great things if only he was given the option to. Jorge worked, that was his life. We would live in Oakland for a while and make our way back to Daly City. By this point the gang was over but the friends where still there, his second family. There was always drugs and alcohol involved in his life but for a time it got really bad. Crack had made its way into Daly City and he was the last one of his friends to get on it. I remember he would call the house and tell us to lock the doors because they were on their way to hurt us or he’d say he saw demos driving by the house. He was the first of his friends to get off it. There was a time that he wasn’t working either. There where times he would show up high on PCP and he would roll around the floor. I hated him for a while. I hated that I had to share rooms with him at times, that he wouldn’t clean up after himself, that he wouldn’t help the family. We would get into arguments an elementary year old with a 20 something year old haha. I never let him tell me what to do. As time passed our relationship got better and I looked up to him again.
Nancy graduated high-school and would go to Skyline college in Oakland. By this time she was the third parent my Dad’s right hand in making decision. She was our second mother helping raise everyone. She would eventually stop going to school to help my parents open a Taqueria. For years she wold put her life on hold to help the family and to this day still helping. She was also our Sunday school teacher along with our other sister:) She had the same group of boys for about 7/8 years; we grew up together. Nancy loved all of us in that class she poured her life into us. She challenged us to grow and to think and question our relationship with God always leading us to Christ. Me and my brother would eventually become her helpers and serve alongside her in encounters, events, and in class. We would eventually close the Taqueria allowing her to live her life for herself more than before. Not having to care for younger siblings anymore or working at the family businesses she returned to school part time and worked.
October 10, 2015 Jorge dies on the steps outside our house at nigh; accidental overdose. I get picked up at school and go home for the weekend and go back to school the following Monday. I cant remember the last time I saw his face. The last time I saw/heard his voice I was on the living room floor at night watching TV. He walks in rubs my head like he would always do and say “Hey, I love you Baby Baba I’ll catch you later.” and I see the back of his body walking away. At his funeral the place was so packed people are standing along the wall. People from all parts of his life where there. A real random looking group of people but then again that was Jorge making friends with everyone everywhere. Jorge was deeply deeply loved. It’s because of him that I love to cook, love to learn about people, places, times everything. I miss him. His smile, laugh, the way he would rub my head, the way he called my Baby Baba, or when we would talk over food, or his hugs. My little big brother. He would be so happy and proud of me for doing this.
Selfless and caring never have I ever heard Nancy complain once about what she had to sacrifice for us. If it wasn’t for her sacrifices the rest of us would have never been able to accomplish what we have now, including this. She instilled my love for baking and its from her that I learned to help the family even if its just doing the house chores before I can do my personal ones or making sure theres food for my dad when he comes home. She is one of the rocks of this family and inspires me every day.
If I could I would make it possible for Jorge and Nancy to have the childhood they deserved and the opportunities that I was able to have. I would give it all up for them.
