Happy 50th birthday, mami!

Something I wrote on my mother's birthday, November 27:


My mother was obsessed with Princess Diana. I was only 17 years old when a fatal car crash in a Paris tunnel ended Lady D's life. That day, my mother was glued to the television. Even though the news channel repeated the same information and images every hour, my mom would not let anyone touch the remote control. She simply watched television and cried.


I am not sure why mami was fascinated by Princess Diana. They shared the same age, short blond hair, light eyes and bright smile. They had also married older men. Maybe my mom secretly wished she had also been a princess.


When I consider my mother's life, the biggest thing I see that she and her idol had in common was their belief in helping others. My mother was the most generous person I know. She incessantly collected old clothes and unused toys from friends and family to donate to our local church. When she could, she gave away food or money to others, even when she herself was in need. It is my suspicion that Princess Diana's charity work is the reason she won my mother's admiration. 


After Lady D's death, my mother rushed to buy the single that Elton John dedicated to his late friend. "Candle in the wind" is the song that I remember my mom playing over and over again. When it was released in 1997, it was renamed "Goodbye England's Rose." The name seems fitting now that I've returned from a trip to England.  


As I remember my mother's birthday today, I see her much clearer now, I understand her better. I wish she would have lived to at least half a century but these things are out of my control. Her candle may have ended long ago, but it burned mighty bright while she was still alive.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZGnZEF6-_w&feature=related

The Angel Dance

                                                                                                                                      

My sister tells me her daughter cries at night because she misses grandma. "When is abuela coming back?" she asks between tears. My sister's heart breaks a little each time she has to explain that grandma won't be coming back at all. "But why?" 

How do you explain death to a 5 year old? How do you break a child's heart by telling them the person they love and miss so much is not coming back? How do you explain that death is final?

My niece was my mother's best friend. Every day after coming home from work, mami would have a special treat for Natty. Maybe it was a toy or candy. Or something outrageous like a pink velvet cowgirl hat. Whatever it was, mami and Natty would giggle nonstop when they were together.

Natty really brought out the inner child in my mother. I honestly feel this helped her live longer. My mother was always sick, most times not feeling well enough to even get out of bed. But when Natty was around they would play together, laugh together and get into trouble together. 

When my mother died, we told Natty that abuela had gone "with the angels." This seemed to suffice. Natty understood that angels lived in heaven. She even came up with her very own angel dance. When you asked where grandma was, Natty would flap her arms while twirling around the living room.

It's been two and a half years since mami left us. Natty was only 3 years old then. I knew that she remembered grandma but I was shocked to hear that she cries at night because she misses her. What did my sister tell her?

"When someone dies it means they are not coming back. It's ok, though. Because that person lives in our hearts." As my sister rattled on with her explanation, tears streamed down my face, neck and onto my lap. I could not stop crying. I wanted so much to be silent, to pretend everything was ok. I didn't want to hurt my sister. Miles away in Italy, there's not much I can do. I mean, I can't even hug my sister or niece. So, I not-so-quietly expressed my pain in sobs.

Yesterday, Natty turned six. I remembered the day she was born. When I arrived at the hospital, my mother was holding her. There was something different in her face, a look that was foreign to me.  She stared at Natty with a serene, loving gaze. I did not quite understand it then but I recognize it in a heartbeat now. That look was sheer love radiating from my mother's face. I know that this love lives on, wherever she may be.

I'm sure mami is touched that Natty remembers her abuela so fondly and vividly. I hope she's sending hugs from above. Who knows? Maybe mami is doing her own angel dance.