Celebrating life and death

Recently I was witness a critical piece of life, namely death.  My host mom’s mother passed away two weeks ago, and it was quite impresionante for me to not only watch my extended host family deal with this important event, but also be asked to participate.  Here I’ve included something based on something I wrote the day after she passed away (original in Spanish).

It seems odd to me that today is the first cold day since I’ve been here. Yesterday la señora passed away, and today the family hasn’t really seen the sun.  It’s like something from a story, all symbolic and literary, with a gray day to match the sad day.  --Except that it’s not totally sad.  Dulce spent the night with her siblings but came over in the morning to tell me she would be over at her mother’s house all day for the vigil and that I could go over whenever I was ready.  I met all of the siblings and close family friends.  I usually met them while they were in tears, but after they’d spend their time in the vigil room, they’d come and join us at the kitchen table and laugh and joke and tell stories.  Sometimes they’d laugh until they started crying again.  Other times they’d go silent for minutes and stare at nothing, but they always came back to the conversation and the memories. 

I didn’t hear much about Josefina and her more recent months, but I heard so much about earlier years.  She was a terrific person, by all accounts.  She would feed, clothe, and shelter whoever needed it; many of the men and women who stopped by to pay their respects truly loved this women.  Flowers were delivered pretty much all day, and phone never stopped ringing.  Announcements were made on the radio stations, announcing her funeral Mass at San Francisco Church at 4 P.M. 

It should be noted that the details of a funeral are still business details – scheduling the Masses, organizing meals, cleaning the house, carpooling, greeting visitors, post-Mass arrangements.  Dulce and her siblings shared the responsibilities, and believe me, I’ve never seen a funeral put together so quickly in all my life.  Señora Josefina died on Sunday afternoon, and by Monday afternoon, she was set for her funeral.  All of the Masses intended for her were planned along with her funeral Mass, and so many people attended each Mass.  Having lived in Guanajuato all her life, she knew many people and as one of the sister-in-laws put it, she was an abuela muy querida; everyone wanted to say their final goodbyes. 

As far as the “abuela muy querida” I can’t argue.  She always asked Dulce if she was taking good care of me, a throwback to earlier years.  Everytime we talked, Señora Josefina made sure Dulce was feeding me and that both me and my family were okay.  Even though I didn’t know her that well, it was clear to me why her children are so close-knit, and why her Masses were packed with people. 

She is missed.  One of her great-grandchildren, a little boy two years old, came over to the house after one of the Masses.  He went straight to her room, peaked in, and said hola abuelita, not understanding that she wasn’t there. All of Dulce’s hermanos, gathered in one of the living rooms, were moved by the little boy’s actions, reminding them of their loss.

But they will be fine.  They were able to say their goodbyes while their mother was alive, and as one of Dulce’s sisters told me, “We’re 11 brothers and sisters and we take care of each other.  We love our mother, and we know we can get through this.”