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.
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