This term must have been said a thousand times.. maybe because of the many examples we had.. grandmothers, grandpa’s, old uncles and aunts.. people that belonged in a time passed, one that required strength, resilience and grit in the face of loss and uncertainty.
My grandmother was my example. Her story was her power and one that I wished I knew more in detail but she is no longer with me, with us.. just as another example is no longer with us, Loretta Hotter. She was my husbands aunt and she passed this past week. I have to begin by stating she was one of, if not the most important reason WHY I decided to learn how to drive.
John brought me over to meet his family in Pleasantville a couple of years back, when we were dating. He wanted me to meet his cousin Tommy, Loretta’s son, whom he spoke of highly just as I would speak of my cousins. John comes from a numerous family, like many Irish families, made of sisters, brothers, cousins, second cousins, cousins once removed, uncles, aunts, you get the idea.. one of his aunts had boys TWENTY years apart.. I know I am emphasizing the time by writing it in ALL CAPS, but it isn’t a surprising fact. My grandmother had daughters 19 years apart.. it’s a cultural thing.. let’s not judge former female fertility.
Those two daughters were my mom Isabel and her little sister Debbie.. turns out when Debbie was turning one, I came along and this is why I call my aunt Debbie my sister, because we grew up together. Now as for Loretta, turns out she came to America when she was 17, before the Second World War from Ireland, in search of a better future just as my grandmother. The difference between them was my grandmother was not alone, she brought her eldest daughter Carmen along and had to leave her other children in care of a friend back in Dominican Republic. She too was in search of a better future for her children far from her island home in repair from a fallen dictator, Trujillo in 1961.
Loretta had four children, buried two just like my grandmother had six and buried one.. I thank my God I do not know what that pain is like and I pray for those whom have experienced it.. it’s an unnatural torture that does not have a word in any language. Parent’s are never meant to outlive their children. The stronger ones forge forward for the sake of the others and this is what Loretta and my grandmother did.. failure was never an option nor complacency nor complaining.. If only you could bottle the stock they were made of..
I remember the day I met Loretta, she was in her 80’s and she pulled up in Tommy’s driveway. I had to remind myself not to let anyone see my jaw drop, I know it did mentally. Here was this small Irish woman, about the height of my grandmother, in other words, short, coming out of this massive car! Was it an SUV?! It could’ve been. Right then and there I decided I was going to learn how to drive. I was in my 40’s and had never driven in my life. Honestly speaking I was frightened of driving and rationalized that as a TRUE New Yorker I didn’t need a drivers license. Google it and you’ll find that over 40% of New Yorkers age 16 and over do not possess one! There was an even a ‘Sex and The City’ episode on the topic. But as a traveler, visiting countries where a vehicle could enhance my experience and as a future suburbanite.. maybe getting a license would be a need. And so Loretta was my inspiration..
I can remember my first lesson and I was terrified out of my mind, grasping on to the steering wheel with the tightest of grips. ‘You gotta loosen up and breathe’ my instructor said. Breathing deeply, I told myself, if Loretta can do it, so can I.
Loretta was John’s dad’s sister, born Gaffney, one of ten, survived by her only son Tommy and a daughter and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I also had the immense pleasure of meeting her daughter Margaret whom recently passed as well. Maggie, as she was known to those she loved and loved her, was in a category all by herself. She made me feel welcome every time she saw me. She made a point to sit with me and talk to me. For a Dominican girl dating an Irish boy, this made me feel loved and for this I will always remember Maggie.
Loretta’s granddaughter Lisa gave the eulogy at her funeral and her words softened my heart as I heard more of her life.. her fortitude, her compassion, her smile.. how important she was and still is.. all the while I thought of my grandmother, my mother and how similar they both were. Both tenacious and tough immigrant women that came to this strange land far from their families and for their families.. they will never be forgotten by us; they’ll live on in our hearts…
It is my hope that we too, the women that came from them strive to be like them.. and be thought of one day as ‘they don’t make them like they use to’ too.
Rosa Isabel Chavez 