"Radame" !      That's what abuelo Miguel used to call me and while laughing my ass off I asked him why he would call me that name and he just simply said "beacuse you look like a Radame to me".  I was about 6 yo when he renamed me and never again did he call me Javier.  Every summer break during my childhood in P.R. my mom would drive us to Mayaguez to spend part of the summer with Abuelo and Abuela, and the very first stop we would make entering Buenaventura was abuelo Miguel's bakery "Dania Bakery" in the corner of the shopping center; the smell of bread, pork, chicken and sweets all wraped inside the store, complemented with a sweaty Bendiciones from abuelo (Dios te bendiga Radame) was my welcome to happy days.  I remember waiting for him at nights coming from work so I can seat with him at his little table in the hall way, watch him eat nothing but chiken bones and bread (loved them bones), and tell endless jokes while at the same time listening to live baseball on the radio.  I remember him giving us rides around the neighborhood while we sat in the bed of his green beat up pick up truck only because he knew we loved it and made us laugh. I remember he loved old school bolero music and even took us ones to a restaurant call El Bolero somewere by the ocean in Mayaquez and made us laugh.  I remember his king size bed with a super king size pillow harder than a rock.  I remember he'd have to get up before the sun came up and come home after the sun had set (true lover of the trade).  I remember him calling out from his room on the second floor, "DANIAAAA!" or sometimes "TASIIIIN! " when he needed something, that made me laugh.   I was fortunate to have been part of his latter life. There are a lot more memories of abuelo Miguel I carry with me, good ones, but this is enough for now. 
Thank you for giving me the bettter part of your life. Rest in Peace Abuelo, tu nieto,

Radame.