The Legend

The day came. It’s been a few weeks now and I still find it extremely heartbreaking to say the word and prefer not to. And even though my entire family was blessed to have had my Abuelita around for ninety five and a half years, I know we all secretly wish we could have had her for another ninety five and a half years.

Everyone loved my Abuelita. Not just because she was cute, it was her being. She was special. I once asked her, “Abuelita, do you believe in past lives? Because I believe you were someone special. You have lived a long healthy life. You must have done something good in your previous life to have such good karma in this lifetime. ” She smiled and said, “I hear talk about past lives and yes I believe in it.”

I grew up with her. I was lucky that I had her close by. I remember sitting at the foot of her bed in her pink bedroom with matching pink gingham curtains that she sewed, holding a bowl filled with water on my lap as she leaned over my tiny body and dipped the black comb into it then ran it along my dry hair. OH MY GOD, did it hurt! After she ran the wet comb through my dry hair, she grabbed a handful of my hair and began to braid my thin hair into VERY tight braids. OH MY GOD, my scalp was on fire, but I never complained. One time I walked into her pink bedroom and found her sewing. She noticed I was curious so she grabbed a basket of yarn and taught me to knit and being the perfectionist I am, even at that age, I spent my days knitting the longest braid ever.

I come from a HUGE family and like I said before, I was lucky to have grown up with her nearby when she was around. What I mean is that she was always traveling visiting the family. She bused it everywhere, from Salinas to Texas to Sonora. She spread her love to all her family. If you couldn’t come to see her, she came to you. Earlier this year she made the grueling sixteen hour bus ride to Sonora and she LOVED it. When I was younger and my Mom went away for the weekend with my Stepdad and my younger siblings, my Abuelita babysat me and my older Bro. The two things she enjoyed doing was cleaning the fan in my Mom’s room. She took the fan apart and patiently cleaned every blade. It was her thing and the thing my Bro and I asked of her was to make her famous Swedish pancakes. They were the best and try as I might; I cannot make them like she did.

We all knew this day was coming and in the last three months I was back and forth visiting her. Each time I saw her I couldn’t get enough of her. I kissed her on the lips, we took selfie pictures (each one had to be approved by her. If the lighting wasn’t right, we had to retake it) and I really took my time and studied every single detail about her. I was fortunate to spend her last weekend with her. Her bedroom was filled with family pictures that she surrounded herself in. They lined her dresser and side tables. Over her bed was a cross. She lay in bed with her two purses to her right and the wood cross my cousin Hector gave her on top of her chest. To say she was attached to her purses is an understatement. She was OBESSED with them. One carried her bible and the other carried her glasses and other knick knacks a ninety five and half year old woman needs. I spent all morning going through her albums as she ate the snacks my Tia made her. She had a HUGE collection of pictures (I got my habit from her. I too have a HUGE collection of family pictures. Some that she handed down to me through the years and because of that I declared myself the keeper of all the family pictures years ago) and I noticed that a lot of pictures that went “missing” somehow ended up in her possession. I found myself cracking up. She was slick. No wonder, I thought to myself, whenever she thought a picture was missing she accused me and I got word of it. She didn’t play with her pictures. She was so serious she even had my Mom questioning me! I never took a picture without her permission and now I understood why she would go nuts if she thought a picture was missing, it was because she did just that. She swiped a lot of them!

In the afternoon, after I doused her in her favorite Estée Lauder talc, we sat outside surrounded by the warm sun and her colorful flowers. I noticed she too was taking every single detail in. She took her time staring at everything around her. The flowers, the sky and at each one of us, she stared for a long time. In the morning I woke her to give me her blessing (it was tradition. She ALWAYS gave her blessing) before I left. She opened her eyes and lifted her brown hand up and placed her fingers to my lips than began her prayer. I closed my eyes and blessed her for being my Abueilta. We kissed goodbye. I told her I loved her so much as I held her slim hands in mine. “All you are my idols,” she said. “No, Abuelita, you are our idol,” I responded. I kissed her again then I walked out of her room and down the stairs. When I got to the bottom step I turned back around and ran up the stairs and into her room. She was already sound asleep. I kissed her again and again on her small forehead and then walked out.

She was a very special woman. She was a wonderful daughter to her Mother. She was a hard worker and provider for her family. She is the reason my family is here in the United States. She gave us this opportunity. She is our foundation. She loved unconditionally and lived her life in a constant prayer. She lived through four generations. She had fifty five grandchildren. The total of grandchildren, great grandchildren and great, great grandchildren is over three hundred. Family was everything to her. We are a close family because of her. She enjoyed being surrounded by family. We celebrated every one of her birthdays and she always sat back in her chair and watched us dance and eat and socialize. It’s what brought her joy.

I spoke at her service when the family came together a few weeks back. I had to personally honor her. She had been an outstanding example of a godly person. Our rock has physically left us and is now with her sons, siblings and parents and it has been a privilege to be her offspring and to have had her for so many years. She was a Mother to us all. She was a legend in our family and every single person knew it. All of us catered to her with gusto. The young children were crying so hard at the service it was heart wrenching to see. And at the end of her time when God called for her, he blessed us with doing it with dignity. She slipped away from us and back where she came from in her sleep.

When I returned back home from the services I noticed a white butterfly playing in my front yard. She’s been here ever since. I know it’s her. The other night I caught myself praying to her. Then I stopped. I still can’t do that yet. It’s all too surreal. It has been difficult to accept.

My Abuelita left a legacy behind. She runs through my veins and I strive to share the level of compassion she shared on this planet.

l miss her so much. I miss her singing. I miss her sassy attitude. I miss her asking where her purse is. I miss her Swedish pancakes.

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