So this story is dedicated to Empty Thoughts who requested it about seventeen and a half years ago... I've been working on it ever since, but what was going to be a oneshot took on a much bigger part in my notebooks and hard drive. Just to give you an idea: I'm writing page 64 right now... I've decided that I didn't want to keep the requester waiting anymore, and that the story would be too long of a oneshot anyways. So here is chapter one of To Build a Life.

Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters.

Dedication: To Empty Thoughts who waited a long time. Thank you for the idea, this was a lot of fun to write and work on :)

To Build a Life: 1998

Dearest Esperanza,

I haven't always been completely honest with you, and I think that to a certain extent that is a good thing. I am your Abuelo. You treasured me and respected me and even looked up to me despite the better judgement of everyone else (and maybe even yours). There are some things I couldn't tell you when you were growing up and trying things for yourself, and some things I wished I wasn't about to tell you even now that you're grown up.

Now: that doesn't mean that I'm a liar. Not about everything anyways. You are an intelligent, ingenious, wonderful person that the world is lucky to have out and about, Anza. I love you completely and I have always believed in you. That much is true. I'm sorry if I dissapoint with my story, but I had to write this. For one, there are some things that I don't want to take down or up or wherever it is I'm going. I want to leave them right here. There are also some things that I think you'll need to hear for a few people's sakes, including Leo's because you and I both know that he isn't a regular kid, no matter that you didn't ever tell me or the family. Believe me: I know.

Two, you have had your life torn apart not very long ago. I acknowledge that. I'm sorry for that. You know about those two things, but I want to show you that I understand that. I understand how you feel, how you felt, how you will feel and I want someone who won't be judging you to tell you that all of those feelings are okay. I've always been scared for you on that front Anza, because you are too avant-garde for most people and their response is to squash you like a bug.

And, nearly more importantly: one day, to your son, I'll be a ghost, and I want him to know that ghost as a person more than anything right now. Not to mention that he's going to meet my biggest ghost, and I think that he needs to know in advance what kind of striking and lovely person she is. He'll brace himself. He'll need it, trust me.

It's complicated. This is sounding stupid and complicated and like the invented product of some kind of old-person syndrome I could possibly be developing. Looks like I'll be writing a lot of letters.

Love,

Your Abuelo.

Sammy drummed his pencil on the tray of his hospital bed. He could hardly manage his annoying habit- his hands were shaking so badly. Too badly, actually. It was like the universe was sending a not-so-subtle message to let him know that his time was coming.

"Screw you universe," he muttered under his breath. "I can read. A sign on paper would have been just fine, and it would have been simpler. I'm not going to have you stop me from doing this."

And so Sammy put the first letter in an envelope, nearly ripping it apart as he did so. He wrote her name on it, and scribbled a tiny number '1' in the corner where a stamp would be.

Then he pulled another piece of paper towards him and started writing.