Mamacita
31/10/10 11:56
The other day marked 12 years since my mother, above, passed away. It had been a long and valiant fight on her part and in the end it was a peaceful death. When I learned Spanish in high school I started to call her Mamacita and it stuck. The picture above was taken by me in approximately 1996, maybe 1997, hard to remember now, and of course, it was Hilton Head Island around dawn. This was before the cancer came back. She used to run on this beach, sometimes up to six miles a day. In the end she would walk and meditate, listening to the waves and the sea gulls, watching children play and other people walking. When she needed time to reflect and be within herself, this was the place. She was a hard nut to crack, but when you did she was so much fun. I miss her voice and her laugh, and having her around when I’m sick. And, despite it being 12 years, she still shows up in my dreams (on occasion) and I know she’s around when I see 11 11, or a coin where it doesn’t belong. Things people might not know about my mother:
Loved to listen to Abba (she would have enjoyed the musical Mama Mia)
Loved to listen to Carol King, Bruce Springsteen, Doobie Brothers, and hated James Taylor
Went to Catholic School and was about to finish her doctorate degree when she learned of her cancer. She was still studying before her death, always thought she’d get that degree!
Loved to cook with real butter, loved whipped cream on pumpkin pie, pastries, lobster, pasta, and a good gin & tonic or white wine
When the VCR first came out I’d bring movies home and she would talk through the movie, “that wouldn’t happen” or “this is so hard to believe”, then we’d have to discuss suspending reality and just being in the moment of the movie
When I was a kid she was a woman working in a man’s world: parole agent, then a supervisor and then a prison warden
She always impressed on her children that they need to be self sufficient, and never travel without having money (we were notorious for only having $2 on us)
Her nick names were: “the big cheese” and Miss. Laura
Although she swore she hated our dog, she was sad when she died (that dog lived to be 18 years old and we think it was just to spite my mother!)
Traveling alone was never an issue for her
She didn’t want to die without knowing that my nephews would be ok and my dad would take care of them, and he has never broken that promise
Although she didn’t say it, she loved her family.
Te amo mamacita.
