In Good Times and In Bad, Till Death Do Us Part

On December 15th, 1962 my parents took their vows in Holy matrimony at la Parroquia Nuestra Señora de la Monserrate in Jayuya, Puerto Rico.  Not sure of what their life was going to be like or where it would take them, they went on a journey that can only be described as a very rough start, an incredible ride, and a rough ending with the terminal disease that would eventually take my mom.  

The beginning of their life together was hard during that time.  Clearly a sign of the times in the small mountain town of PR but also due to the hard life they were living.  From very poor beginnings, where my mom literally lived down the mountainside from Dad, being 6 years older than her, he would see her grow up with her dad on dirt floors in a single room wooden house, at times he would tell us that he knew she went days without food because of how poor they were.  

Mom lost her own mother when she was 6 and was forced to live away from her dad until she was 11.  Only to come back to help take care of the house, her father and her brothers until she met Dad who was her first real love and the man that would mean the world to her all the way until she would eventually forget even who he was.  

Early in our years I recall that while dad was clearly "the man of the house", dad depended on mom for being the rock that he leaned on during their struggles.  However in the end, he was the rock she hung unto and could not let go. 

The phrase, "lo que tu padre diga", i.e, "whatever your dad says", was very common at home.  She would not make a decision without him, but if the decision was not what we were looking for, mom would go up to bat for us, speaking with dad separately until she convinced him and he caved to what we wanted.

My parents were very humble, honorable, serious, funny, dependable, strict but extremely loving.  While Dad was the provider of the house, Mom was the care giver.   Mom was also the Jiminy Cricket of the family, always saying either "Rafa" or "Rafy - to me" if he and I were to say something that was inappropriate or she did not agree with.  We should be better than that.  

Dad was the comedian whose jokes sometimes went too far.  When he developed cancer in 2011, he lost his hair and he had a picture with he and mom in it.  As mom was losing her memory, he would put her on the spot and ask her, who was the bald guy in the picture with her?  Mom of course had no idea it was he but that didn't stop him from asking and then laughing when we yelled at him for doing that to her.

Their faith unwavering, Dad always prayed for a miracle cure for mom's illness.  After all, if his prayers helped him beat cancer twice, why would they not help her.  One time I asked Mom, as I was putting her to bed and she was already beginning to forget who I was, if she believed in God.  Her answer was an immediate, and resounding "Why, Of course".

My life, our life, with Mom and Dad had lots of moments of incredible happiness and dark moments of despair, pain and agony especially as we helped them through their final stages of life on this earth.  However, the one thing we never doubted was how much they truly loved each other.

Today, we would have been celebrating their 58th wedding anniversary if they were here.  Instead we look at pictures and are grateful for their very true endless love until the very end.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.  Missing you in ways I cannot describe. 

What happened to our Moral Compass?

One day, we will all look back and wonder, what happened.  How did we get here?  How did we get so wrapped up in our own "individuality" and caring only about "What's in it for me" that we forgot the shared values of being an American with others desiring the same goals?  Others that have the same dreams to be given the same opportunity to go as far as we can through Liberty and Justice FOR ALL.  How did we actually lose the content of our character and the direction of our moral compass?    

As Americans, compared to other countries founded on a specific "cultural identity" I remember when we adored the melting pot of a whole America, where we learned to appreciate, respect, value and actually benefit from others that are different from us but were united in a common goal and mission.  When we were the beacon of the world that made others aspire to be part of our great political experiment.

How did we end up worrying solely about the unborn but not really caring for them once they joined us in this world?  545 kids in cages still unaccounted for.  For those that don't trust the "local" news, here is the story from the BBC, so you can still see it from the eyes of the world as they gaze upon us.   

It is not about who built the cages but how and why they are being used.

That is clearly not what Matthew 19:14 says.  Again since we are only interested in viewing this through our own respective  lenses: https://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/Matthew 19:14.  While the words may be slightly different there should be no doubt that the meaning is the same.  That we are all, Children of God.

With the Pandemic of 2020, the most vulnerable is our aging population, not to mention our healthcare workers.  While I am comforted that my parents are not around to be exposed to this disease, which would have definitely taken their lives given their health problems, how can we as a country not do everything we could to protect those lives we value so dearly?  I remember seeing this politician say he would give his life to protect the economy and way of life, and wondering why would we even debate this.  Why did we feel we had to choose one over the other?  This is America!  The nation that put a man on the moon!

As we get closer to this election my hope is that we all look deep inside and remember who we are as a people and what really unites us.  During 9/11, we huddled together and cried over our nation's shared loss of 2,977 lives.  With a pandemic that is currently taking this many lives roughly almost every 3 days, and more than 230,000 of our loved ones so far, as it continues to ravage our country.

America is not about a single person or a specific President.  It is about We the People.  It is about us getting together to take care of each other, to respect each other, to Love each other and what we strive for. To make a more perfect union.  Not that it is perfect but that it can be improved, by valuing everything we contribute to it as a society and as a diverse nation.

Words matter.  Our Behavior matters.  Our Soul matters.  Our Moral Compass matters.  

In my final words, I voted, not just for me and for my own values but to represent the over 3 million US citizens and primarily my family living in Puerto Rico that can’t vote for themselves.  

Mater artium necessitas

According to the UK website phrases.org.uk, the phrase "Necessity is the mother of invention", which they say translates to "Difficult situations inspire ingenious solutions" and appears to have been documented in Plato's Republic, but has also been traced back to it's first Latin use back in 1519.

Back in about 1990, when Dan was about a year old, I was talking with my sister-in-law Denise about how difficult it was to load the car with all of the stuff we had to carry, such as the car seats, diaper bags, extra clothes, and not to mention the 20 lbs. 1.5 year old, who was dead weight when he fell asleep!  We thought, wouldn't it be great if we did not have to lug the car seat and could just put the child in a seat built into the car?  Lo and behold, in '92, Chrysler introduced the built-in child seat for toddlers with other manufacturers following suit.

As an early teen, I was always inquisitive and curious. Wanting to know more about how things worked. I had a chemistry set and tried to make lava spew out of a volcano only to have it just go up in smoke. Literally, with a strong smell of sulfur requiring the windows to be opened for a long while.

Later in my years, not knowing the difference between AC and DC, I took an old car stereo and wired up an AC plug to it and plugged it into my outlet in my parent's apartment. Needless to say, I blew a fuse and my dad's gasket at the same time when the spark burned the wall.

As a junior in high school, I got my first computer, a Commodore 64, with the cassette tape drive (I could not afford the slow floppy disk, until at least a year later) and would spend hours typing in by hand the hex codes of a game from the Compute magazine I bought so I can learn to program and play a game at the same time. Oh how frustrating it was to transpose the digits in the magazine during the hours, if not days input, only to get an error and then having to go back and re-enter the thing again.

To think that I actually contemplated going to a music college to pursue a degree in music when all along, my calling was to become an engineer. Had I done so, I don't think I would have woken up so many times at night, to scribble something on a notepad that I was dreaming about, so I can remember that thought the next morning.  Even today, I wake up in the morning, mind racing, about a problem I worked on the day before, only to get a good night's rest and the inspiration to solve that which puzzled me for hours the day before.

Thomas Edison once said, "Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up."

Today I came across a news article about a new mailbox alert sensor that Amazon is releasing a week from today.  The sensor, which is something they are adding to support their sidewalk wireless service that has been in deployment for the past several years, will tie to the Ring and Echo platforms and notify users when a person opens the mailbox.

It immediately brought back memories of a project Dan and I worked on when he was in elementary school which we called "You've Got Mail", pun intended.

Dan, I guess Edison was right.  We should have never given up.  We were sooo close! What should we do next?

Spread Your Wings

Last weekend, Luisa and I officially became empty nesters.  We moved Nick and Erin to their new place so they can begin their new life.  The following day, Erin immediately started graduate school and Nick started a new job.  My back is still in pain from the heavy furniture we moved up about 34 steps.  This of course, is to remind me of both the hard labor of last weekend and the excitement we had for them starting their new adventure and the next phase of their life together.

I remembered when I moved out of my own parents home to my first apartment right before Luisa and I got married.  The thrill of the new place that I called my own, and the uncertainty of what was to come next.  I remembered flipping all of the lights on in the entire place because I could and then coming to the realization, "Hey, I'm paying for this now.  It costs money." and then shutting off the lights except for the room I was in.

Luisa and I have been waiting for this moment, to begin our own next phase of our life for quite some time.  Not because we were anxious for both of our sons to leave, but because this is what parents are supposed to do.  Put all of their time, energy and focus in their children. Raising them to be independent and to think for themselves but to nurture them with a foundation that allows them to be amazing adults and contributing members of our society.  To take the best of what we have taught them, to learn from where we fell short, and to strive to do better than the previous generations that have come before them.

I have a lot of bird feeders around the house including a humming bird one right outside the kitchen window.  I am amazed at how many birds surround our house and enjoy viewing them as I drink my coffee.  I have a special affinity to the Cardinals and have written about their visits in past posts, reminding me of my parents who lived at Cardinal Woods Way.

In Erin and Nick's new place, they have a very cool patio area and for all of the grief that Nick gives me about how I love the birds, he mentioned that they can get some bird feeders and place it there so they can watch the birds come to feed as well :)

I couldn't help but think of the symbolism of the birds I constantly watch to Nick and Erin leaving their respective homes to start their new adventure and life in a new place.  In a Boston University Blog post, entitled Nature vs Nurture: How do baby birds learn how to fly?, the author wrote:

Nick and Erin, on behalf of both sets of parents, I am sure we have done everything we could to help nurture you, and to prepare you for this stage of your life.  I am sure there are things we could have done differently or even better but I am also sure that what we did, was with the best intentions we had for you, with our mutual interest in giving you everything we could and to help position you to succeed and to better than we have done for ourselves or our parents did for us.

To Nick, when mom and I made a decision to move from NJ to SC almost 27 years ago, it was for Dan and for YOU even though we did it almost 2 years before you were born.  We made the decision to lift up our roots and move to a new place, not knowing anybody, to create a better life where your mom would stay home to raise you and your brother.  To dedicate every second of every day to benefit both of you and raise you both how we thought best.  To position our family better financially, but also to primarily enable us to dedicate more time with you until this point.

The excitement in us beginning our empty nest phase is a combination of your mom and I wanting to focus on each other and remind us of what it was like before you guys came into our life, but also for her and I to celebrate what we believe was a "mission accomplished" moment having given our blood, sweat and tears to you both.  To toast many glasses to each other and smile at what we have accomplished.  Yes, though you don't like hearing it this way, but to create our legacy.

Which brings me to the next point.  You and your brother ARE indeed our legacy.  When you are in your new town, with the love of your life, remember who you are, where you came from, what values we instilled in you, what things we taught you and what we deemed important for you to remember and understand.  Primarily the values of Love, Family, Faith, Respect, Honor, Your Heritage and the hard work that came before you that you and Erin will indeed build upon.

This is your chance to spread your wings but also realize that we are just a phone call or roughly 2 hours away from you.  Just like some of the birds that hover over their babies to ensure that they can successfully learn to fly, we will watch from afar as you do the same and are here should you need us.  We love you and want nothing but the best for you both.

Now Spread your Wings and Fly!

Close your eyes

I love watching movies.  For me it is an opportunity to escape from the intensity of my days but also a chance to learn, think and reflect.  One of the movies that did that for me was A Time to Kill which was based on John Grisham's 1989 book.  I actually read the book back then before watching the movie when I had a lot of time on a plane traveling to Asia on business regularly.  Yes the book was better but the movie was very true to the story.

In the movie, during one of the final scenes, the defendant's lawyer gives the closing argument in the case.  (Note:  This is a very intense, descriptive scene and I struggled with placing it in here verbatim but decided it is warranted given the topic of my post.).  The lawyer, Jake Brigance (played by Matthew McConaughey) says: "I want to tell you a story. I'm going to ask you all to close your eyes while I tell you the story. I want you to listen to me. I want you to listen to yourselves. Go ahead. Close your eyes, please. This is a story about a little girl walking home from the grocery store one sunny afternoon. I want you to picture this little girl. Suddenly a truck races up. Two men jump out and grab her. They drag her into a nearby field and they tie her up and they rip her clothes from her body. Now they climb on. First one, then the other, raping her, shattering everything innocent and pure with a vicious thrust in a fog of drunken breath and sweat. And when they're done, after they've killed her tiny womb, murdered any chance for her to have children, to have life beyond her own, they decide to use her for target practice. They start throwing full beer cans at her. They throw them so hard that it tears the flesh all the way to her bones. Then they urinate on her. Now comes the hanging. They have a rope. They tie a noose. Imagine the noose going tight around her neck and with a sudden blinding jerk she's pulled into the air and her feet and legs go kicking. They don't find the ground. The hanging branch isn't strong enough. It snaps and she falls back to the earth. So they pick her up, throw her in the back of the truck and drive out to Foggy Creek Bridge. Pitch her over the edge. And she drops some thirty feet down to the creek bottom below. Can you see her? Her raped, beaten, broken body soaked in their urine, soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood, left to die. Can you see her? I want you to picture that little girl. Now imagine she's white!"

Thinking about recent assassinations of George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery over the past couple of months, I could not stop thinking about something that jumped out at me.  

One of the early videos that was played continuously was Ahmaud walking into a house under construction the day he was killed.  Luisa and I commented about all of the times she and I have walked the neighborhoods where we lived or pulled over to a house under construction when we were hunting for a house or just dreaming of the kind of home we would like when we first started dating, where we would walk into the house under construction to look at the rooms, the framing of the house, and think about what it would be like to own a home like that or if we would make changes to the layout. As a matter of fact, in recent videos of the same home that recorded Ahmaud, you can see a white couple doing the same thing and walking into the same house to look at the construction. 

With George, the context or should I really say the pretext was that the police were called because he was trying to purchase something with a fake $20 bill.  It reminded me of when my parents moved down to SC when they retired.  My dad was 70 years old when he retired.  They worked until practically the day before they moved down, working full time, while also beginning to collect SS income at 65.  For 5 years, my dad would collect his SS and store it away, preparing for the move so that he could have his retirement.  We were shocked at how much they saved for this.  Having lived in an apartment all of their lives, they were able to purchase their first home by moving to SC.  Within 4 months of moving down, they moved into their brand new home.  In preparation for that big event, Dad gave me the cash that he had accumulated, and I mean cash, because for some reason he thought it was best to just take the cash from the bank in NJ and close his account than transfer it electronically to a bank here.  I took several thousands of dollars to the bank to open the account.  

When I gave the cash to the teller they put it in a machine and one of the $100 bills that dad gave me was fake.  The teller wanted to know more about it, and I was shocked that it was fake having never seen a fake bill.  I told the teller about my parents and where the cash came from.  The teller thought nothing of it, said OK, and confiscated the money. 

What if I closed my eyes and imagined that Luisa and I did not look like how we do and looked like George or Ahmaud?  Or what if George or Ahmaud looked like us?  

It's time for us to reflect on this and understand the undercurrents of what is driving this pain for our brothers and sisters of color.  If we are truly one race, the human race, and are all God's children, created in the image of God, how could it be that this acceptable to any of us, white or black?

It is time for us to take a moment to close our eyes and put ourselves in their shoes.  

Jane Elliott, a former school teacher, known for her involvement in the anti-racist movement, gave a speech to a predominately white audience on Race and being Black in America.  

Now open our closed eyes and let's do something to fix this problem of our own creation for God does not see black or white and loves all of his children.

Why I can't stop crying

My blog posts convey my own personal thoughts and feelings on various topics, primarily my life.  I do not speak for others, but I know I am not alone feeling this way.  It seems like everywhere we turn there is one more reason to be filled with pain and sorrow and in some cases even despair.  

Whether it is the pain we experience when we lose a family member, to the sadness of knowing that we have lost more than 100,000 fellow Americans, not to mention more than that around the world due to Covid-19 in just 3 months, to the unbelievable shock of watching someone getting murdered while gasping for air and the horror of looking at the person, who had committed to "serve and protect", show no emotion whatsoever while he was doing it.  

It seems like we are living a nightmare that we can't wake up from.  Watching a movie we cannot change the channel on.  Living in perpetual grief waiting for the next shoe to drop and scared to see what comes next.  After a brief period of healing at times, we are given reasons to continue crying over our sadness and pain.

Personally, I am losing my faith.  My faith in humanity and how we treat one another.  Not completely understanding how people could be so callous and cruel to one another.  The salt on the wound comes from the comments from "those of faith" who on one hand offer prayer and appear to worry more about the loss of property than the loss of life and the injustice we are all seeing everywhere right before our own eyes.   

I am losing my faith in America and the shared ideals and values of a nation who was once the shining beacon of the world, best described by the words of Thomas Paine in Common Sense:

"O ye that love mankind! 

Ye that dare oppose not only the tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth!...

O receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind."

To the words from Thomas Jefferson in his National Prayer:

"Bless our land with honorable industry, sound learning, and pure manners.  

Save us from violence, discord and confusion, from pride and arrogance, 

and from every evil way.  

Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people 

the multitude brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues."

To the plaque from the Statue of Liberty written by Emma Lazarus in 1883:

"Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

To the words of Martin Luther King who during his March on Washington address in 1963 said:

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where 

they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.....

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, 

every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, 

and the crooked places will be made straight, 

and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together...

With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, 

to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, 

knowing that we will be free one day.

When I see how cruel and inhumane our elected officials are in the treatment of minorities and people of color I think of the words of Cornel West, an American author who said: "You can't lead the people if you don't love the people. You can't save the people if you won't serve the people."

The past days and weeks challenge everyone of us to reflect on what are clearly the injustices and inequalities all around us. While some of us are lucky and blessed to be able to work from the comfort and safety of our homes due to Covid-19, others are taking risks not just to go out to work but to protest over the senseless killings of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and countless others.

The Smithsonian magazine in an April 2018 article said that in the 10 days following King’s death, nearly 200 cities experienced looting, arson or sniper fire, and 54 of those cities saw more than $100,000 in property damage. 

I do not condone or call for rioting and looting but we all have to come together to denounce the blatant racism and unfair treatment of people of color and minorities in general. This is not who we should be or can be and it is going to take every one of us to do something about it.

We need to inspire hope, give love, and promote change for all of us. Not just a select few.

In Matthew, Chapter 18, in the Parable of the Lost Sheep, it says: 

"See that you do not despise on one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father. 

 What is your opinion? If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, 

will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray? 

 And if he finds it, amen, I say to you, he rejoices more over it than over the ninety-nine that did not stray. In just the same way, it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost."

For those that like to say All Lives Matter, well if you are truly a follower of Jesus, it is time to acknowledge that Black Lives Matter.

Raised by my father who basically taught me to "Say what I Mean and Mean what I Say" and with a mother who's attitude was "don't be so mean", we need to stop being given reasons to cry.

My Guardian Angel*a

Today is the first anniversary since we felt the warmth of your hand, the softness of your face as we caressed it, took in your scent as we hugged you and kissed your cheek, looked into your eyes as we saw you staring, though sometimes not really back at us.  365 days since you were called home.

More than a year since I called your name, "Angelita", and heard you respond with "uh huh" like you normally did.

As the 12th month anniversary of your passing got closer, I thought about how this year was not as painful as watching you go through what you went through, the last precious years of your life.  Even though you were not here and all of us have missed you dearly, the thought of seeing you one more day live a life you did not deserve brought more pain, anger and sorrow than your absence.

I thought about how you were finally free from the grip of the Alzheimer's disease that robbed you of your happiness and soul.  The feeling, deep in my mind and in my heart of how lucky I truly was to have you as a mom, is helping me deal with the anger I had built up all of these years as I saw you wither away from the shining light you once were.  At that moment when you left, I was overcome with a sense of peace, though if only for a short while, of finally seeing you not suffer anymore.  That feeling took priority over the fact that it would be the last time we saw each other in person, and from that moment, rely on the vast amount of pictures and videos that we have to remind us of our time together.

Last year, we physically lost you the day before Mother's day.  I remember the emotions we were all going through, were tempered with the sense of relief in not seeing you suffer any more and the beginning of the arrangements for your service.  This year, the anniversary of your passing is the day after Mother's day and the pain feels much more raw. 

Angelita, even though I am still healing from the deep wounds of those painful years, and have Luisa to thank for constantly reminding me of what we had and how special you truly were, I absolutely know that you are in a much better place.  With Dad, your father, brother and all of the others you once knew during your time on this earth.  That you finally, after 72 years, got to be with your own mother whom you yourself lost when you were only 6 years old.  An incredible mother who did not have one to guide you during your own life but just knew how to be one.

As we go from remembering the day you passed away and the length of time since then, to relishing in the happiness of the time we had with you, we will continue to heal with the disappearing pain.

I know that while I may not be able to physically touch you, you will forever be hovering over me and reminding me that the pain is temporary and that you are and forever will be, my Angel.

Years ago, I asked Nick to write a song about Mom to capture what we were feeling and going through as a family.  I could not have written the lyrics better myself.  It has been said that people wear their heart on their sleeve.  That must have been the case for Nick to capture not only what I was feeling but who you really were.

In the lyrics, Nick wrote:

"...And when it's finally over, I'll find a way to get by, I know that Heaven will welcome you.. because that is where you are from...."


 

During these past several months, as we live through this surreal moment in our lives during this worldwide pandemic, our family has discussed what it would have been like had you still been around in the frail condition you were in, and if one of us were to get you exposed to this awful disease.  How we could have continued to care for you the way we did, without putting you through even more harm than you were already in?  God had other plans when he called you home.  With enough time for us to begin to heal our souls and breathe again before reminding us of how frail we all are and how much we really need family.

I love you Mom and thank you for the life and unconditional love you gave us all.  I know you will continue to be my guardian Angel.

A Special Thank You to Nick and his former Remind Me Later bandmates Mark, David and Luke.  Angel is an unreleased track that will forever be the song that reminds me of how we all felt.

A Mother's Day Message for My Sisters (Mother's Day 2015)

5 Years ago, on Mother's Day, I wrote this message for my sisters.  Facebook reminded me of this memory and I have captured it here in this blog to save it.  This year, the second Mother's day, without Mom, was painful but this memory helped remind us of why we went through what we did. 

For our dear Mom.

---

Evelyn, Carmen, and Annie. This is an open letter to the three of you on Mother's day.

Each one of you deserves to get pampered today for everything you have done for your own individual families. You have each brought to this world and raised amazing and beautiful children, some of which are already adults with their own children or will in the not too distant future be crossing that path of life as well. You have shown them how to be a mother, how to love, to be strong and how to be there when they are going through their own challenges in life, whether it was losing a game, missing that pitch, breaking up with their "first love", struggling with homework, or everything else in between with your own individual touch. They should honor you for being there always and I am proud to call you my sisters and love your children as if they were my own.

Today though, in addition to your celebration of this occasion, my special request to each of you is to remember where the root of that unconditional love comes from. Our own mother. Each one of us can recall every time that we came home late from a party and no matter what time it was, there she was by the window and opening the door to let us in because until she was sure we were home safe, she could not go to bed. Every time we fell down, she was there with her alcohol and Mercurochrome (which was outlawed in 1998 actually – Annie I think you may have been spared this poisoning act), washing our clothes – originally on a washboard as I remember, preparing breakfast for us in her “bata” and when we would come home, there was always a full home cooked dinner ready. It didn’t matter if it was 4PM or 9PM. There was no exception to that prepared meal, even though at times we would come home and there were 3 or 4 other children she was taking care of at the same time so her and dad could make ends meet. 

She is, and has always been, the source and inspiration for who you are today. She never once expected anything except your love back to that unconditional love a mother has for her children. She was the epitome of a humble servant never asking for anything, or stating she was entitled to a vacation for all of the hard work she put into raising us. She welcomed our spouses as a member of her own family, and better yet, took our kids into her arms as if she were going to lead the task of raising them. Her joys in life were simple. Family and her only “tv show” All My Children. Even the show name is indicative of her true purpose in life.

We have to continue to pursue with the same tenacity she had for us, to help her through her most difficult and un-humanizing time of her life. To show her that she is not alone, though she may feel like it. That she is loved beyond compare. To treat her with the tenderness she has shown for each one of us. We have to be there for her, like she was there for us, and put aside our thoughts of how many times we have done something or if it is my turn or yours. It is the least of what we can do. As the first born in the family, and the only son, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, while I know is not necessary, for everything you are doing for her, along with my own wife Luisa. This is the time we have to rise to the occasion and show her that she deserves to be given back everything she ever gave us to get us to this point, and even more. Today, think about what the true definition is of Mother’s day, and I can assure you that one image will immediately come to mind. Our own loving, dear, and forever amazing mother, Angela. 

Happy Mother's Day to you.  I love you.

Living a nightmare...2 years later

Exactly two years ago, on April 2nd 2018, our family lived through the nightmare of losing Rafa.  Having suffered a heart attack, found sitting in his chair, toothpick and remote control in hand, TV full blast like he always had it, that day and the days that followed it were very surreal.  A pain that we lived through now a distant memory.  The loss of dad was painful and only enhanced by the losses that would follow over the next 12-15 months.

At the same time, our desire to get back to normal and happiness was made possible by the celebration of life within our family through several marriages, the birth of a child, the sweetness of birthday cakes and trying to remember the good times we had with Rafa and honoring him with the traditions he shared with us.

Now, in the midst of a Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) pandemic affecting not only the country but the entire world, it is impossible not to think about how we would have reacted or behaved and how different it would be, had dad and mom be with us during this unbelievable time.  Worrying about how much at risk they would be given their high risk health conditions.  Worrying if one of us, the primary caregivers that were there everyday and at one point, 24 hours a day everyday, would have been responsible for giving them "the virus disease" that would eventually take their life.  Or being away from them and not being able to see them because of having to stay 6 feet apart from them.

It sounds crazy to even think about "what if" in this context, but at the same time, it gives us profound peace to know that they are not living through what we are living through.  Mom with her anxiety would be in so much despair.  Dad with his inability to show weakness while simultaneously being fully dependent on us to help accomplish what was needed.

Over the past several days, as I tried to think about what I would say to honor our father, on the 2nd anniversary of his departure from this world, I can't stop thinking about how grateful we are that he, along with mom is not hear to live through the nightmare we are living through.  A nightmare that is unimaginable and beyond surreal. 

The thought of the tremendous loss of life that is transpiring across the world due to this disease.  The loss of loved ones that are alone, unable to be with family at their time of so much pain and suffering.   While dad was alone when he passed away, he did not suffer, and lived a full life that we thank God we were able to enjoy with him.

As we give thanks for what we have been given, we also must give thanks to all of the first responders, to those that are in the front line, to the healthcare workers that are responding to a calling to help all of us deal with the nightmare we are living through.

May God Bless all of you, protect you and give you the strength to do what you do.  

  

De un pajaro las dos alas

Puerto Rico's first famous poet Lola Rodríguez de Tió once wrote a poem called Cuba y Puerto Rico son de un pájaro las dos alas which basically means that Cuba and Puerto Rico are the two wings of a bird, the two sides of the same coin, the two branches of the same tree...etc.

While Lola, a descendant of Ponce de Leon, born in Puerto Rico, was also a political activist and very involved in some of the early independence movement of Puerto Rico and Cuba, see Lola Rodriguez de Tio, that's not the point of my blog.

Lola wrote a poem about the similarities of Cuba and Puerto Rico and the common bond between them.  She was born in Puerto Rico and is buried in Cuba.  In her lyrics (translated with Google translate):

Lola talks about not being a stranger and each person, a brother... receiving flowers or bullets within  the same heart.  That was my brother Miguel.  My brother not by birth, but in my soul.

Growing up with 3 sisters, I being the oldest, there were times that I understood that I had it easy relative to what they went through but during the most monumental times, it was very difficult because I had no one to turn to or relate to.  Someone that could give me the advice I needed when dealing with the cards I was dealt.  Someone I could horse around with like brothers or sisters do.

I found that brother in Miguel.  Miguel and I were more alike than we admitted, though initially he was very guarded and frankly not too crazy about the new addition to the family.  Especially someone who was not Cuban.  When Luisa and I were first dating, I would always spend my time there.  It was so much fun and her family welcomed me with open arms.  Miguel's question to me though was, "why do you always have to be here?".  Not something his parents wanted to hear and boy did they let him know.  I could not tell if he was joking or not.  Obviously, he was.  But he then followed up with, "Until you do, I don't"! Again, not something his parents wanted to hear and once again, they made sure to let him know how mad they were at him and that he should apologize.  Especially after Luisa made it known how mad at him she was.  He never did.  Not directly anyhow but I knew he didn't really mean it.

Actually, I consider myself lucky.  Miguel was known to be hostile with Luisa's friends and one time, actually pushed her first boyfriend out a window!

Over time, his attitude changed.  We definitely became brothers, as if we had grown up together.  While we never did the physical horseplay that younger brothers can relate to, we had our fair share of horsing around.

We would push each other's buttons about everything from which music was better, Cuban or Puerto Rican.  Though Cuba has always had some amazing artists, his favorite artist was in fact Marc Anthony.  The ribbing continued with which dominoes game was more challenging, the Cuban version based on double-9s or the Puerto Rican version which uses double-6.  He loved to take his jabs.  I only wish they still came flying at me.

The competition continued with which food was better.  It should be noted though that he would always ask Luisa to make Arroz con Gandules (Puerto Rican) and not Congri (Cuban) when we got together and was always looking forward to take me to the new Puerto Rican restaurant in the area when I visited. 

The biggest arguments though came regarding each other's cooking.

Especially when it came time for our annual pig roast, which on some years, gave us an opportunity to argue in person twice a year.  Once during the summer in SC and the next during our annual December 31st roast to welcome the new year.

The funny thing was that since we always cooked it together, we were both responsible for how it turned out.  I am sure we would have both stuck to our guns and blamed each other.

Miguel and family would come up to SC during Thanksgiving and we would go down to FL after Christmas.  Every visit, was an opportunity for Miguel to complain about how much work we made him do as well has how much he would have to spend during his visits. "Oh Denise, get the camera", he would yell.

However, there was no bigger opportunity for him to complain than us not having a roaring fire during his visit.  Even if it was 70 degrees on Thanksgiving, the fire place had to be on.

He was a royal pain like any typical brother, but a pain that I was always looking forward to seeing and one that I miss dearly.  Just like his father, Miguel lived for today. He was always laughing and making people laugh.  He just knew how to have fun and made sure you did as well.

He inspired everyone he touched.  Everyone who knew him.  Everyone who loved him.

Miguel was an avid Facebook user but primarily for sharing pictures of the wonderful things he did with his family, and the messages of inspiration and hope that he was known for.  That is part of the reason I blog.  To continue giving hope the best I can, while trying to follow his lead and his advice.

When Miguel passed away, the members of the Bar Association and legal community of Lee County, FL created an incredible tribute for him in the May 2018 issue of Res Gestae, entitled a Life of Love, Laughter & Law - Miguel C. Fernandez III.  An incredible testament to who he was.

The hardest part of this blog, was how I should finish it.  Let me say that not a day goes by that I don't think about Miguel.  Especially when Facebook reminds me of his posts....

I miss you my dear brother.  May you continue to cheat your way playing dominoes in heaven with our dads and Mima.

One final note.  Today on March 21, 2020, exactly on the 2nd anniversary of Miguel's passing, his 3rd grandson Beckam Miguel Washington was born at 1AM.  I would like to think that there was definitely some coordination between the two of them.  That it was Miguel saying to the family, through Beckam's birth that this day, March 21st needs to be a happy day.  A day when I came home, and so shall you.  To give everyone something to be happy about on March 21st.  Happy Birthday Beckam.  Welcome to the family and for giving us something to look forward to on this day.

"A-Man" A Father Figure Like No Other

I have always felt blessed of the adult male role models in my life that helped me become who I am.  Of this amazing list, there is no one that has impacted me as much as my own father Rafa, than my Father-In-Law, Miguel Humberto.  He was more of a Father to me, than of a Father-In-Law.

Likewise, I always knew that I was more of a Son to him, than a Son-In-Law.  There were times that I genuinely could not tell the difference between my relationship with him, and the relationship he had with his own son whom he absolutely adored.

Rafa taught me honor, discipline, work ethics, responsibility, commitment, love for family, respect, strength, the game of baseball, admiration for my Puerto Rican heritage, to save for tomorrow and all of the basic tenants in my foundation.  Humberto added to this list by showing me how to live for today, how to enjoy life, not sweat the small stuff, to appreciate the love of a touch to the face, the real meaning of a hug and a kiss, to laugh, to appreciate great Spanish music and culture in general, and to spend it all today because tomorrow is not a given, but as long as we had our family we would figure it out and be OK.

I determined early on that I would combine both of their approaches in how I raised my own kids.  I truly hope that I captured the best of both of my fathers.

As a Grandfather, he was truly unique.  My niece Desiree called him "A-Man", short for Abuelo.  Indeed he was. A Man, a one of a kind, special person, loved by all of his grandchildren.  Always having a smile, appreciating the most precious gifts of his life, his amazing family.  When Dan and Desiree where only a year old, he dressed up as Santa Clause which scared the heck out of Desi.  He quickly ripped off his beard and hat to show her that it was just him. They were too young to know what Santa was but he was anxious to give it a try.

There has never been any doubt that he loved his son and daughter but he absolutely adored his grandchildren.  He made them feel like they were the most important thing in his life.  His usual greeting to them was "Hello My Friend".  I on the other hand got, "You B$#ch". Hahaha.

They made him do and say things and he went along with them for the ride.  The laughter we all had with his Abuelo-isms, absolutely priceless.  One time, Desi asked him what was his favorite cocktail. To which he replied "Shrimp".

The way he played with them and made them feel special, it was obvious, why they adored him.  He was the coolest grandfather I have known and was willing to do everything they asked.

He did everything with them and for them, as long as it was not having to change a diaper.  Which he eventually did when his last grandchild, Nick was born, but check out the video below to see how that turned out :)

Our bond was special.  For my 18th birthday, he went to the supermarket and bought 13 lobster tails so that we can celebrate my birthday!  That eventually became our thing.  Food.  We both had an appreciation for food and specifically enjoying each other's company over a meal and a drink.  The first time I ever went to a fancy restaurant was because he took me to one.  He eventually became known as "la muelita".

He would always want to take me to a new restaurant and to share with me something new he had and that "Rafy would like" as he said.  To enjoy things that only he and I would eat and appreciate because I was open to eating all of the "interesting" food that nobody else would enjoy with him.  That was especially the case when he and I would go to Bravo Supermarket during my visit to have chicharrón, cuchifrito or cuajito.  Much to the chagrin of his wife who would remind him that fried food was not good for him as we headed out the door.

During one of the final times that Luisa was visiting her parents in FL, while I stayed back home, she took him to Bravo's and called me to tell me about it.  I told her to tell him that I was upset that he went there without me.  His reaction was priceless but also heartbreaking.  His usual response would have been to tell me to cut it out (or in a more direct way - such as no joda, your loss and you should be here).  Midstream, he forgot what he was going to say.

My 2nd father left us to join his son, his parents, those who have gone before him and to be with God on March 11th, 2019.  Because I was still dealing with the impact of my dad having passed away less than a year before, and still focused on my mom who would pass away only two months to the day after him, I was not able to focus on the impact of my personal loss of Humberto.  I came across a video of him saying how much he missed me during one of his visits to SC while I was traveling.  I miss him even more today.

Today, on the anniversary of his passing, I honor him with this post.  I thank him for who he was, how he was with me and for all he did for me.  He helped me in ways that I cannot explain or are too personal to share.  A second father to me and one of the most important people in my life.  For had it not been for him, I would not be who I am.

I miss you "mi padre".

The Spice of Life

There is something about food that brings back memories flowing like a river.   Whether it is the thought of the Thanksgiving Turkeys, to the smell of fresh baked bread reminding me of the bakery down the street from where I grew up, it is said that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  And that is definitely the case for me.

I have always believed that passing down cooking recipes is essential to connect us to our past and keep the memories of the wonderful meals our families shared together alive.

Mom was a great cook and was always slaving over the stove, making sure the meal was ready for Dad when he came home from work.

My earliest memory of Dad cooking was when Mom gave birth to Annie and we remember dad cooking.  We were shocked at how well he cooked.

When he took over as the primary care giver in the house, I asked dad if we could get someone to come in to cut the grass, take over the chores and cook.  His response to me was "Rafy, please don't take that away from me.  It is the only thing I can do and gives me something to do."

Mom was deep into her disease and was too much for dad to handle so that is when we began our shifts.  Dad had gone through a rough patch with his health but was still plugging away.  Making his famous arroz con gandules, baked chicken, his delicious sancocho, and of course, his daily dose of tuna sandwiches for lunch. With diced tomato and olives.  He wouldn't strain the tuna so it came out a bit watery but it was still tasty.

On Friday night, when it was my turn to visit him, he would tell me about the moyejitas he would be frying on Saturday for Lunch, or the pulpo he purchased for a nice octopus salad.  He would tell me that they would be ready for lunch and for me to come any time.

Of course, by 10:30 or 11AM on Saturday, as I was still cutting the grass and doing my weekend chores, he would call me to tell me that I can come over when I wanted but that it was already done. But of course, no rush. :)

He had the same habit with his rice.  We would ask him to make his rice for Thanksgiving or Christmas so it was ready by lunch and by 8AM he was already starting to cook it.  It would be done by 10 and then kept warm on the stove.  Sometimes, it was done a bit too early so it would start to dry out but it was still the best rice and beans we have ever tasted.

He showed his love through his cooking and there was no doubt he loved to cook and loved us.

He showed us some great recipes and how to cook some amazing things but the one menu item that took a whole team effort was making Puerto Rican Pasteles.  Initially, when they did it with us, mom was still very alert and the disease was not getting in her way of her doing her part.

When it was pasteles time, dad would be excited about going to the store to buy all of the vianda and the fresh pork shoulder.   We then all got together to grind everything up and assemble the pasteles.  It was essentially an all day thing, taking many hours to prepare and produce them.  In the end, we would do between 150-200 of them to share between the 5 homes.

On February of this year, almost two years from losing dad and 9 months from losing mom, my sisters and I got together to continue the tradition that our parents taught us.  We made a whole day of it, with Evelyn even preparing bacalaitos for us to enjoy before we got into it.

When the time came, we took out the machine that dad and mom had brought down from NJ to make the masa from the vianda.

This machine is a grinder and mixer that creates the best masa easily and quickly.

We then got to work on the assembly line. While we did this, we reminded ourselves of what we were doing right but also what we were doing wrong and how dad would be reminding us, in real time, what we were doing wrong.  We removed much of the pork fat from the meat and could hear dad tell us in his voice "eso es bueno y se come",  i.e., that's the good stuff.

We even had a glass of coquito to celebrate and toast to our parents for the blessed memory we had of them doing this.

By the time we were done, we had made about 120 pasteles to split between the four of us and we all believe that we knocked it out of the park.

In the end we do feel that mom and dad would have been proud of us, and are probably glowing in Heaven with the fact that we are continuing to do these things, honoring their memories, spending time together and partaking in continuing our culture.

We felt their presence in the stories and memories that came alive in the process of making them and in our minds, imagined them hovering over us and looking like this.

Family meals are opportunities to keep memories alive.  To continue the traditions that have been passed down to us.  To use food to awaken the senses of smell and taste so that it can remind us of the great times we enjoyed with the ones we loved and while they may not be with us in person, are with us in spirit.

Today, February 23, 2020, would have been dad's 84th birthday and is the 2nd birthday that we do not have him with us.  In his honor, we continue the traditions and enjoy the meals he created with the Spice of Life.  

Rie y Llora - Que a cada cual le llega su hora

I'm sensitive to starting every post reliving the pain of what our entire family has gone through over the past couple of years.  However, in the past 3 months, our family has experienced a transformation of nothing but amazing moments that continue to bring us together and be giddy about celebrating life and our beautifully expanding family.  Yes we have those moments where the holidays remind us of what we have lost.

But those moments now pale in comparison to the excitement of having celebrated two amazing weddings within this short time frame.  In October 2019, it was Dan and Jill.  Luisa and I had a natural high leading up to the wedding and then for about a month afterwards.  Now it was Desiree' and Spencer's turn to tie the knot and give us hope for a better future.

The day was as beautiful as the bride. The location picturesque. The venue, prepared with an attention to detail that would not only excite us about what we would all experience but sweetly reminding us of those who would not be joining us physically but without a doubt, in spirit.

From the memory room, with Abuelo's handcrafted furniture to the two dominoes tables on the porch, just begging to hear Miguel yell "La Gorda" and proclaim "My House, My Rules".  Their presence was felt everywhere.  Several of us wore his suits, ties, shirts, and even the bridesmaid's flowers were wrapped with Miguel's ties.

As the guests began to stroll in and sip from the champagne glass, we were all admiring the location and the shear beauty of the place.  All of us, very consciously aware this day would be full of joy while trying to keep our emotions in check so we can focus on the bride and her husband to be.

As the ceremony began, our anticipation and excitement grew upon seeing Desiree' walk down the paved path in Denise's arms.  The friends and family, giving them both support and admiring the strength of those beautiful ladies, as the waves began to crash loudly against the rocks nearby.  Then as Reverend Jorge started to speak his words, the ocean calmed to the point you could hear a pin drop.  

The wedding vows romantic and full of emotions like the crowd sitting in the chairs, tears flowing with all of the love for this family.

The celebration capped the night with great speeches, incredible food, and non-stop dancing throughout the entire time.  

There was one moment, where it all came full circle.  A song, a tribute to Miguel, where everybody was asked to dance with the newlyweds and the family.  Everybody joined the dance floor which at first did not appear to be big enough, but obviously was.

The tribute song was "Rie y Llora" (Laugh and Cry) by Celia Cruz. On my drive back from FL, I listened to the song several times, wanting to dissect the words and appreciate its significance.

...

Lo que es bueno hoy

Quizás no lo sea mañana

He ahí el valor del momento

He ahí el presente perfecto

...

No es que recuerde, sino que no olvido

Eso es el perdón, recordar sin dolor

Agárrate fuerte y ya no te sueltes

Ríe, llora

Que a cada cual le llega su hora (le llega, le llega)

Ríe, llora

Vive tu vida y gózala toda (vive tu vida y gózala toda)

Here is the song with lyrics

Essentially, tomorrow is not guaranteed. Therefore live your life in the moment.  The perfect moment at this current time.  It's not that you have to remember the pains of the past, but that you cannot forget the good moments of today.  Laugh, Cry, as our time will come for all of us.  So live your life and enjoy everything.

This was exactly what Miguel wanted us to do and how he lived his life.  Enjoying the moment, thanking God for all of our blessings, namely our family.  

As the newlyweds make their way to their honeymoon, and to begin their future together, the pictures and comments from all of the people that witnessed this magical event are flowing on everybody's respective Facebook pages.  The smiles and comments say it all.  

Life is good.  Especially with a family and friends like we have.

Congratulations Desi and Spencer.  May God Bless your marriage and may you always live your life, in the moment.