I witnessed the burial of my grandmother two weeks ago in her home country.. I knew that would be part of saying goodbye, traveling to see her remains entered in the mausoleum she built for the sake of her daughter’s remains 47 years ago.
We were ready and not ready to say goodbye.. she lingered in her bed for months since the first time we were scared into believing she was at the end of her days. Her lungs weren’t cooperating and her breathing grew shallower as the days passed since the first time she was taken to the ER.. that was in March. We thought if we could just get her to wear that CPAP machine she could continue to live.. why wouldn’t she? but we forgot who she is, who she was.. living her life by her terms. She wouldn’t wear it, she would take it off and so she fell back in lifeless mode and back to the ER again. This time, in home hospice would be the answer.
We took every chance to surround her with love, fill her last days with her favorite sounds, her favorite music, favorite black and white movies, her grandchildren and greatgrandchildren.. And it’s as if she wasn’t present, her mind was far away. At times she was very lucid and at times, she spoke as if we were still children.. it broke my heart.
It was hard seeing her that way but there was no way I wasn’t going to be there for the one woman that gave me her all, good, bad, ugly and beautiful. She was no longer the tower of strength that stood stubbornly as she alone raised me. She was no longer the hardened hearted woman that saw life in a narrowed view, preaching the ‘repent or else’ doctrine of her Pentecostal beliefs.. she was.. softer.. a skin I thought I would never feel on her.
She hung on and I honestly believed she would see the end of her 92nd year and we would celebrate her 93rd, Friday June 13th but we didn’t. She passed on Monday, June 2nd, in her bed, with her loved ones by her side. I sat with her the day before, after this feeling of urgency compelled me to see her. My husband and I started our Sunday with a visit to 65, the apartment many of us called home. I held her hand as I stroked her hair and I said whatever came from my heart, regardless of whatever her response would be.
‘Do you love me?’ I asked her and I knew she did, but trying to get her to say those words was the biggest challenge I faced when it came to our relationship. Even on her death bed, this woman wouldn’t budge. ‘I love you’ I said. There came a time when I gave in and would tell her as often as I could, because I realized she hadn’t heard those words enough in her lifetime or if they were said, it wasn’t followed by actions to prove it.
‘Thank you for everything.’ Was the last thing I said as I kissed her on her forehead and motioned to John, who stood in the doorway entertained by his phone. Oddly enough, for a woman that ‘did it all’ without the assistance of a man, felt she achieved her obligation with me by seeing me married off… that’s culture for you. But I get it, it’s not so much married, but cared for, there’s a difference. You could be bound by marriage yet tied to someone that doesn’t care for you and what would be the point of that? She probably never knew how fortunate I was to have crossed paths with John J. Gaffney and how, unlike her I always tell him I love him.
3 AM Tuesday – ‘Grandma passed away’.
And so I knew that I would be getting on a plane to see her enter her eternal resting place next to her daughter, my mother Isabel Antonia in Dominican Republic.
We gathered to say goodbye. The pastor and parishioners from her church, her sisters, brother, nieces and nephews, friends of grandchildren all together to pay their respects… She was loved and I knew she was, and I want to believe that she was there to witness how much she was loved.
The pastor said ‘she touched other lives by the love she demonstrated to her family’. That summed it for me. I have learned from the many years in the classroom, the energy you give can be passed on to others and I learned indirectly from her, the energy should be fueled by love…
This school year has been a very challenging for me.. it began with a cancer diagnosis, which has been surgically removed (Thank God) to then me being removed from my classroom.. there began my heart break.. my faith was tested.. to then witness my mother’s light dim..
One day of hope stands out – The day I flew for her funeral in DR, as I walked to the gate in the airport, a former student remembered me, ‘Ms. Chavez?’… I could feel my eyes well up.. ‘Thank you for remembering me.’ I told her, ‘it means so much.’ … then as I sat at the gate, this man’s BACK spoke to me, ‘ Believe in the power of your talent.’ I knew I wasn’t alone.
My childhood friend Eli greeted me at the airport when I landed.. to think of our friendship of 40 years.. when I think of my mother’s land, I think of Eli, warm and welcoming like their climate; how lucky to be met by such an ambassador. She made my time there bearable till John got there.. we made a short stop to the first Caribbean beach I experienced as a child, Boca Chica.. so long till we step foot again in the near future.
Looking back, I feel Divinely blessed and I can thank God & Antonia for all of this..
You did great by me; I am not alone and I promise to continue making you proud. You will be with me every minute, from the most forgettable to the momentous. Every person will know you through me till I see you again.
Rosa Isabel Chavez 