I was gonna do an end-of-year review, but to be honest I can’t, not month by month; it’s still too draining going back to the early part of the year, and I’d rather start looking forward. So here are a few pictures that show events from 2009.
My nephew came to visit and we got him a bike.
At El Yunque in PR in Feb.
At El Yunque with Mom, after her first hospitalization, in Feb.
Riding our bikes at Bike Miami Days.
My grandmother's 80th birthday, G-d bless her and keep her.
With Mom, my sister and nephews at Luquillo Beach, after Mom's third hospitalization, in Jun.
Good bye Mom.
Our new cat, Yoshi.
My new bike.
Our new apartment's living room, almost done.
At Sleepless Night 09, a few days before our 7th anniversary.
I’m ready for 2010 to start, for my Nursing studies to take off, and for life to get better.
I’ve been avoiding dealing with Mom’s memory in any conscious capacity for more than a month now, trying to get back to a normal rhythm of life. I’ve even felt guilty at times because I have actively avoided anything that would make me think too much of Mom, especially all the papers and photos I brought back from Puerto Rico. I’ve relegated her to the wallpaper on my cellphone and iPod Touch, and the picture of her I keep in my journal marking the next blank page where I’ll write.
Not today. I know this will come up at dinner, so I rather work through it now than at the table. I’m talking of course of the “What are you thankful for?” question at every Thanksgiving dinner. Well, I’m thankful for my mom, Wanda I. Robles Ortiz. And this is my eulogy for her.
The easiest way I can find to describe Mom is by way of Psalm 15:
A Psalm of David. Lord, who may have a resting-place in your tent, a living-place on your holy hill? He who goes on his way uprightly, doing righteousness, and saying what is true in his heart; whose tongue is not false, who does no evil to his friend, and does not take away the good name of his neighbour; who gives honour to those who have the fear of the Lord, turning away from him who has not the Lord’s approval. He who takes an oath against himself, and makes no change. He who does not put out his money at interest, or for payment give false decisions against men who have done no wrong. He who does these things will never be moved.
Now, Mom wasn’t perfect and I have no interest in making her into a saint after her death. My mom was a human being, fallible, with quirks all her own who nevertheless strove every day to be the best she could be, accepting each night that she had failed in some things, and knowing that, with G-d’s help, tomorrow would be another day for her to try again. If there is one great lesson I learned from her it probably is, “Lo mejor que hizo Dios fue un dia despues del otro,” (the best thing G-d made was one day after the other) for in that phrase is encompassed the way in which she lived her life and how she taught us to live ours: know that whatever you do today, good or bad, tomorrow is another day; you’ll either have a chance to see the results of the good deeds done and be inspired to do more, or see–and deal with–the consequences of your not-so-good actions done and have a chance to learn from them and perhaps make amends. I don’t know that it was this well codified in her mind, but I don’ t think I’m too far off the mark either.
Mom led by example. Through ups and downs, through the thousand-and-one juggling acts she performed raising three kids as a single mother, it was always her actions that taught the big lessons, and yes, at points the lesson was ‘don’t do what I did here.’ More often, however, it was more a guide on how to behave properly for us then to apply according to our own way of life. I learned to be patient from my mom, as well as easy-going, accepting, honest and diligent. I learned to treat people with respect, as well as a few choice curse words for when your respect was answered with rudeness. I learned to laugh at everything I could, to be happy and thankful with the most trivial gift, to be loving and caring and affectionate. Some people say I’m touchy-feely and clingy, and you can thank Mom for that.
Living apart from Mom was always a bit difficult for both of us, though we managed by always being in touch by phone (she even tried email a couple of times over the years just for me) and she would visit as often as she could. When she fell ill the first time in 2007, I went to PR to be with her for some of her hospital visits. And when she fell ill again at the start of this year, I dropped everything to spend what eventually would turn into four months at her side in Puerto Rico. How could I not? It wasn’t easy, both because my life has changed in the past few years and the realities of spending long stretches of time in a place without a large Jewish community and all that entails made things difficult for me, but mostly because it was torture seeing Mom decline as she’d go through the stages of her illness. This was also when I saw the awesome strength of will she had inside.
It was also during this time that I realized the magnitude of something I already knew. My mom had been a teacher for 19 years, most of them at the same elementary school in a low-income government project (”caserio,” in Puerto Rican), a place that most people avoid like the plague. There, Mom taught wave after wave of young kids, earning their affection for years after they’d gone out of school. Even though many of her kids were tough to deal with, she did not give up on any of them, going to lengths I didn’t even know to help them out (I’m talking facing off with drug traffickers and the like). She was my mom, our mom, but she wasn’t ours, and she wasn’t her own; she belonged to others, to her students, fellow teachers, friends, family, and pretty much any and every one that needed her in any slight way.
So today I am thankful for my mother, for the time I did get to have her, for all that she gave me and taught me, for all the love she bestowed upon me from even before I was born. I am thankful that I was able to give back to her a tiny fraction of what I owed her. And I am thankful for the legacy she left behind in me, my sisters, and my nephews (and any that may later come). I miss her with every ounce of life in me, and that will never change.
Lastly, I am thankful that I have this video of her, the only recording of her that I own. This is a message she recorded for the school graduation, which was dedicated to her and which she could not attend because she was in the hospital. It isn’t a video I can watch often yet, but I have it and I treasure it.
It’s been one month since Mom passed away, and today, 1 month since we, I, buried her. It’s been easy sometimes then really hard at others; there’s nothing in between those two. I’ve days when I can look at her pictures and smile and feel great, then I’ve others when a mere passing thought can topple me down like so much rubble. I assume, and I’m told, this is normal; this too shall pass. I continue to say Kaddish for her, and little by little things will normalize. So here’s to 1 month, and to the elevation of her soul. I love you, Mom.
It is with a heavy heart that I let everyone know that my Mother, Wanda I. Robles Ortiz, passed away today Saturday, August 8th, 2009, her birthday, at 3:00 AM in the morning. She was 56 years old.
I cannot find enough words to celebrate my Mother. Suffice to say she was the noblest person I’ve ever known and I learned so much from her. Indeed, all I am is thanks to her. I will miss her, but I know she is in a far better place.
My thanks to everyone who throughout this year has sent good wishes and prayers our way. I know they had an effect, and I know they will continue to do so.
As of Tuesday I’ve been back in Miami for a week and just now is when I’m finally starting to get back into the groove of daily life. I spent almost two months in Puerto Rico, and that completely threw me for a loop, especially once I got back home. The first couple of days I was walking around in a daze, almost seeing everything as if for the first time, or as if from a previous life. I’m very thankful to my wife who put up with me during this readjustment period.
Since being back I have filled out and submitted my application to re-enter FIU as part of the School of Nursing. I had to take care of a couple of things, but all’s well and good now and I simply wait for their answer. I’m hoping I’ll be able to take a class or two this semester, but if not, I then start full tilt come January. I’m very excited about this, I cannot wait to get started. I’ve had a couple of moments where I doubt myself, start to panic about what I’m about to undertake, feel my resolution waning, but I just push it all away and continue forward.
As for Mom, she’s at my aunt’s house and under hospice care. I have only praises for the care she’s getting from her hospice; the nurses come daily and punctually, treat her well and are not condescending with anyone in the house, take great care of her and attend to all her needs. She’s fairly stable, but she’s weak, and suffers from cycles of dizzyness and vomiting that sometimes render her little more than a sleeping machine. When I talk to her on the phone I can usually tell how she’s doing and though earlier this week she was a bit delicate, today she sounded a little stronger. At least the pain is not bothering her. The best way to sum it up is, she’s as well as can be expected given her condition, but we take things one day at a time.
Saturday, August 8th, is her 56th birthday. If you’d like to leave her a birthday wish on her Facebook page, click on the badge below and go ahead. I’ll be checking the account to approve any new friend request.
There are days when you are feeling down and something happens that restores not only how you feel but also your general outlook on life. Yesterday was one of those days.
Tuesday was not a good day for me. I felt down, sad and quite lonely, especially at night. Early yesterday morning, nursing a mild hangover, I get an email from (met-in-person-once-but-mostly-online) friend and fellow podcaster Adam Pinilla (The Podgecast) offering some words of support and asking if he had my permission to do something for me, open a ChipIn account to help out. I had no idea what ChipIn was, but it’s not hard to figure it out; I said “sure” and gave him my PayPal email acct. Then I went out to visit Mom at the hospital and do a few other things.
When I got back in the late afternoon and opened Twitter, I saw a barrage of @replies show up on my personal @Highmoon account, and many more on my @GamerTraveler account as well. I followed the link provided by Adam (@bafadam) and saw the page he created at Chipin. I then saw the little widget that tracks the donations and was, honestly, moved to tears.
I could write a long message to every single person who retweeted Adam’s message and to those who donated, but wordy as I am, I can’t quite articulate how I feel. Instead, from myself, my wife and my mother, I simply say to you:
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