Chicken Soup...for the soul

I was reminded today by a cousin of a business trip I took once to Puerto Rico back in '89.  The cousin called to tell to me that she had booked her upcoming trip and that she was going to stay in Humacao at Palmas del Mar.

The rush of memories from that trip immediately started flowing and reminded me of all of the things I had forgotten.

During this trip, I was in Puerto Rico to inspect some computers that were being manufactured there at a plant and went down there with a business partner, Wayne.  Given that my family is from Puerto Rico, I was excited about the fact that I was IN Puerto Rico for a business trip but that I would also have the opportunity to visit my family while I was there.

The business trip was great and the weather and area was even better.  When Friday came, Wayne and I ventured from the east coast shortline of Humacao to the mountains of Jayuya.  While you can go around the island in about 4 hours, it took us about that long to get from Humacao to Jayuya, through the winding roads internal to the island.  The scene started off wonderful as the sun set over the water with our desire to get to the mountains before it got too late.  As we got closer to Jayuya, the roads were dimly lit, only by our headlights until the point that it got so dark that we could not see anything.

We lowered our windows to be able to hear oncoming cars and as we started to get into the higher elevation, it got darker and we had to slow down as the roads are technically one lane each way but only if both cars are small Toyota Corollas.

As we get into downtown Jayuya, my memory of my prior trips there kicked in and the car went into autopilot.  I would take this back road and that back road until we got to the bottom of the last climb to where my family lives.

My family lives in an area of Jayuya called Caricaboa but also known as Puerto Plata.  It is near the top of the mountains and in order to get up to where they live, you have to put the car in 1st gear and floor it, while climbing up a concrete road that is slippery given the small streams of water coming from the side of the mountain. 

As we made our way to my uncle's house, you have to take a sharp curve at the bottom of the hill and gun it so that you can make it up the driveway. The car slips and slides up the driveway as it struggles to grab onto the road but the momentum is able to get you to your destination.

I pulled straight into the car port my uncle had built and shut off the car.  Wayne stopped holding his breath and took a sigh of relief.

I got out of my car and saw my uncle standing there on the porch.  I yelled "Bendición" and we both started to laugh.  He said out loud that he knew of only one person who could park like that, and that it had to be me.  He was not aware I was coming by but did hear I was in Puerto Rico.

You see, this was before phones were prevalent in the island, especially in that mountain.  It was 1989 and the only way to communicate with that area was through letters or if an emergency, calling the police department downtown to have them send a message up.

Wayne and I got out and walked inside.  It was at that time that I asked my uncle if it was a problem for us to stay there.  Including Wayne.  Of course the answer was an emphatic no.  He would be welcome anytime.

It was about 10:30PM that night and Wayne would say something and I would translate it to Spanish.  My uncle and aunt would answer and I would translate it back.  We went back and forth for about 45 minutes when my aunt asked me if we wanted some chicken soup.  I asked Wayne if he was hungry and he said yes, that would be great.  My aunt disappeared while Wayne and my uncle continued to talk, with me translating all along.  About an hour later, my aunt shows up with a bowl of homemade chicken soup.  Wayne, had been wondering all along what had happened to the soup.  He thought she must had forgotten it. After all, he thought he was going to get chicken soup from a can when what we were served instead was an amazing homemade chicken soup.  I am sure that chicken was running around in the yard, probably a few days earlier.

We spent the next few days in Jayuya, looking around the beautiful landscape, touring the town until I brought Wayne back to the airport for his trek home.  It was 2+ hours to the airport and the same back.  I stayed in town a few more days to visit with my family. 

I was able to record my trip with the VHS video camera I brought with me on the trip.  One of the best memories I recorded was that of my grandfather Papa Moncho.

I am fortunate to have been given the chance to take that trip as that would be the last time I would see my Grandfather alive.

My visit was cut short due to an emergency.  Just by chance, I woke up one day and decided to go downtown to the nearest phone booth and call home to speak with Luisa.  To check in.

Luisa was pregnant with our first child and she had been trying to reach me for several days.  She had even tried calling the police department and nobody had followed up with me to try to get a hold of me. A recent blood test had come back high and abnormal and they convinced her that she should get an amniocentesis.  The doctors had suspected that the baby had a hole in its spine. 

I cut my trip short and rushed home.  I would later find out that we were going to have our first son. That he would be OK and that everything would be fine.

My grandfather passed away 4 months after that trip of cancer and exactly 30 days before Dan was born.

It has been almost 30 years since all of this occurred.  Within a week of me writing this, Dan will be getting married.

Life goes on.  The ups and downs of life are like a roller coaster ride.  The memories you make, while sometimes sad, are actually healing because when they come rushing back they are like Chicken Soup for the Soul.

When you look for signs...and they appear

For over a year, after my dad passed away, I was in a dark place.  I was angry, in shock, upset, in a state of total disbelief.  I had just lost my brother-in-law, and then unexpectedly two weeks later lost my dad.  For the next year, while we took care of mom, as we went through the grieving and healing process, we would see cardinals outside the window.  A bright ruby red cardinal with amazing colors, flying around.  It would randomly appear, at times when we were needing a touch or when it was unexpected.  My sisters and Luisa would see it also.

My parents lived in Cardinal Woods Way and so the Cardinal was absolutely the appropriate sign that made us stop and say, "Hi Dad".

On the Saturdays I took care of mom, a song would appear in the Pandora station that would make me think of Dad.  It would be either the ringtone I had for him or one of his favorite songs from Rafaelito Muñoz.  I would quickly point it out to mom, with tears running down my face.  Knowing full well that she was not able to understand what I was saying or why I was crying.  It stopped me in my tracks and took my breath away.

In a previous post, I mentioned about how I grew some beans and was wondering when they would be ready, only to have Facebook pop up a picture of my dad's beans 2 years earlier.  Exactly the same day I asked if they would be ready.

For over 15 months, my sisters would tell me that Dad visited their dreams and spoke to them.  That he was OK and to make sure that we took care of mom.  All the while, I was left wondering why he wasn't visiting me in my dreams.

When mom passed away, I did not have the same pain that I had with Dad, of things left unsaid or undone.  Regrets from not being able to have done more to delay that day from arriving or not having reacted sooner to the calls I received.

With mom, while it was definitely very sad to see her go, I felt closure.  I felt that we had done everything we could for her while she was here with us and it was no longer warranted to see her suffer like she was.

Today it is 4 months since mom took her last breath.  This past weekend, roughly a week after celebrating my 1st birthday without her, she appeared in my dream.  It was a beautiful dream.   She was walking and laughing.  The smile on her face was priceless and told me everything.  That she was OK.  That she was at peace and back to being her joyful self.  In the dream, I tucked her into bed, like the thousands of times I had done so and she smiled and gave me a good night kiss.

I woke up shortly thereafter with a smile on my own face.  As soon as I opened up my Facebook, I was reminded about my profile pic I had used for so many years.  One that I had not used since before she was with us.  The one where she, in her lost state of mind, walked right up to me and put her arm around me.  I grabbed it and held it tightly, making sure she knew that I was there for her.  That I would do everything I could to take care of her.

I am sure she knows.  She just wanted to give me a sign, so that I knew as well, that she was OK.

Eventually, dad also visited me in my dreams.   The cardinal has also re-appeared several times.  Though this time, he brings a companion.  A female that follows him from tree to tree.  They have come back many times and I just smile.  Thanking them for the signs they are giving me.

I miss you both.




 

My First 1/2 Birthday

This August 25th, is my first birthday without my cake buddy.  Or more appropriately stated, my 1st 1/2 birthday.  After more than 50 years of celebrating the birthday I shared with mom, I find myself struggling with how to feel today.  Trying so desperately not to be sad on what was normally a joyous occasion, which frankly got less joyous every year as I wondered if it was the last one I would celebrate with her.  Trying to remember all of the wonderful birthdays of years past.

For the past 13 years, I would walk into mom's house, shouting and singing "Happy Birthday to You and Me, Happy Birthday to You and Me..."  Before that, before they retired and moved down to be with us, it would be the first phone call I would make to her.  To wish her a Happy Birthday.  To tell her how much I loved her and was so happy to share birthdays with her.  To beg her to move to SC so that we can share it together.  

My dad used to tell her that I was the best gift that he gave her, to which she would immediately respond, "Oh Yes, the labor pains and being in the hospital on my birthday... The best gift!". I would wonder at times, if that was something that actually bothered her or if it was her way at humor.  :)

As time evolved, the celebrations got smaller but I still made an effort, to try to make her happy on that special day of ours.  The cake evolved from regular cake with ice cream to an ice cream cake which was her favorite.  With her disease evolving, giving her something cold and refreshing to cool her mouth which was always closed was also an added bonus.

Today, this day, my 1st half birthday, all I can think about is how eventually I got my birthday wish.  For mom to move down so we can share our birthdays together.  

This birthday, I won't wonder if it will be my last birthday with her.  I now will wonder when we will get to celebrate it again.

Happy birthday mom.  I miss you.

  

Laughter is the Best Medicine

It has been 3 months since Mom left us to join Dad.  As I struggle to try to remember and capture what we went through as a family for 12 years there are certain memories that continue to resonate.

The memories of how much we laughed in spite of the sadness, depression, pain and outright anger over seeing mom struggle with her disease as it progressed.  These memories are reinforced by the FaceBook memories that pop up on our feed.  By the pictures we come across as we scroll through our photo gallery on our phones.  By the simple things we do such as getting ice cream, Vanilla of course, which is what Mom would only ever ask for.

We committed ourselves to mom and promised that we would do what we could, to make her happy, to capture every moment, to hold on to her as long as we could.  In the process, we transformed our grief and anger into love for mom and giving her the best quality of life we could give her.

We made it our mission to give her as much laughter and happiness as we could.  To keep her in the moment and not let her suffer in her despair as she lost her memories and her self.  Her smile and laughter were genuine and genuinely beautiful.  When you consider how much she suffered in her childhood and even later in her years, it was miraculous to see how truly happy she was.  Especially with her family.  We did everything we could to keep make her happy.

We all did our part.

Those who know me, know that if I am going to do something though, it will be 150%.  I did everything I could to not only make her laugh, but laugh as hard as she could.

One thing I would always do is ask her if I was her favorite.  I would do this constantly.  It would drive her nuts.  I would try to get her to say I was her favorite and her answer was always the same.  That she loved ALL of her children and she could not pick one over the other.  I would ask her again, and again, I would get the same answer.  I think I asked every day.

Until one day, when I came back from a week long trip...

To Evelyn, Carmen and Annie.  I know mom loved all of us equally.  I think that she finally caved and said this, just so she can shut me up and I would stop asking.  Maybe.

Another thing I would do is tell her that we should get tattoos.  I would say "Mom, let's get tattoos!  I'll pay for them!  Mine will say, "Angelita mi Mamita" and she should get one that says, "Rafaelito, mi favorito!".  She did not like that idea but she would laugh at my shenanigans.

Towards the end, her disease was tenacious in doing everything it could, to rob her of her soul, her spirit, and her happiness.  Her happiness was her family and she demonstrated that with a genuine laughter that was absolutely beautiful and priceless.  

Eventually, as she was forgetting who we were and who she was, there was still happiness in her life through the videos we would take while we were with her.  

Of course, I would push those buttons once again, a bit too far, and she would show her sign of desperation of my difficult question, if I was her favorite.  That is, until she saw herself again and was delighted to see a familiar face that she recognized of a beautiful lady that she once knew.

Mom, I know you are laughing and smiling with dad once again.  Looking down at us, being happy that we are still able to laugh and smile at the things we do, especially when the memories we had with you both come back.  I am truly happy at the thought of that. 

But, my happiest times were when I was trying desperately to make you laugh.  When I would push those buttons to get those juices flowing.  When I saw that you were lost and the mere fact of me coming in, seeing you and saying as loud as I could, "Angelita!  You miss me?" 

I am grateful that I was able to do my part to make you happy. 

I miss you.

 

More Than Just Balls and Strikes

Fifteen years ago, Luisa and I volunteered to become a Host Family for the Latin American team playing in the Big League World Series in Easley, SC.  Little did we know what that would entail, how hard that was, but how transformative it would be for us.  Over the years we have laughed and cried while we celebrated the ups and downs of what the teams experience during this tournament.

The hook for me, was when the tournament director at the time mentioned that teams from Puerto Rico had been here and would come to play in this tournament.  Our first team was from Maracaibo, Venezuela in 2005.  As a host family we would become surrogate parents for a team of ~16 players and 3 coaches.  We immediately were called "Los Padrinos", as in Godparents, by the team.  That name stuck and was indicative of the role we believe we had for the team.  Someone who would look out for the players, in the event the parents were not around.

Because I travel a lot, I know what it is like to go to a town you don't know, try to get around and speak in a language you don't fully comprehend or speak and to miss the food you have eaten all of your life...etc.  Now imagine that as a teenager.

When we were getting ready to pick up the team at the airport, we were told that the team was lost and nobody knew where they were. For two days, we waited till we finally got the news that half of the team had traveled from Maracaibo, to San Juan, to Miami, to Dallas, to Greenville and the other team was on a totally different flight schedule.  The team arrived in Greenville around midnight, exhausted and hungry and the first thing they asked was had their equipment arrived.  It had not.

We took the team to the university dorms they were staying at and had them get to bed.  We got home at 3:30AM that night and I said to myself, what the heck did we get ourselves into?  I was still trying to work during that time and went to work in the morning, then to the airport to pick up their "stuff" and then head to the university for a coaches meeting at 1PM.

Because I am fluent in spanish, I also had the added benefit of being in the dugout, with the team, as a translator for the team.  I would run out with the manager for every player change or when there was an injured player on the field to make sure I did my part.  I was like a kid in the candy store reliving my youth as a baseball player.  Luisa made arrangements for meals every night, at our expense, beyond the meals provided by the tournament, because these were some hungry athletes burning calories like there is no tomorrow.  If a player did get injured, Luisa would be responsible for running off with that player to the hospital or physical therapist appointment.  Over these years, there were many of those, including one time when one of our ball players got so dehydrated in the final championship game that he almost didn't make his return flight back to Puerto Rico.

Throughout our time volunteering in this wonderful tournament with the hundreds of other people that do so, we have worked with and have been a part of teams from Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, and recently Curacao.  We have also helped other teams from Panama representing Latin America while we were focused on our own Caribbean team.  The tournament changed from the Big League World Series to the Senior League World Series when Little League eliminated that upper bracket but the volunteering roles stayed the same.

As a Puerto Rican, with a Cuban wife, baseball is in our blood.  It is OUR past time and OUR sport.  We both have lots of famous players we are fond of, but to me and most Puerto Ricans, there is no bigger admiration than for Roberto Clemente.  He was known for what he did both on the field and off of the field.  Clemente once said something to the effect, "If you have an opportunity to make a difference in this world and you don't, then you are wasting your time on this earth".

That's exactly how Luisa and I approached this tournament.  Every team we hosted can attest to my "sermon" before the tournament, when I had my own meeting with them and promised to give it all we got for them for these 10 days.  At the end of the tournament, right before they departed on the bus to the airport or boarded their plane, I would ask them if this was the best week of their lives and then followed up with "Remember everything we have done for you this week. Make sure that when you get to your goal or grow up to be an adult, you do the same as we have for those that follow you.  In the end, that is how we make this world a better place for all of us".

In a 2007, a study came out that said the average MLB career is just a bit over 5 years. We have been volunteering for 15.  Throughout our entire time, the teams we have hosted, have been in the final championship game in 11 of those 15 years.  Our team has gone on to win the tournament 5 out of those 15 times.  We have had numerous players go on to get drafted professionally and some have even made it to the big stage.

We truly enjoy meeting some of them when they come back into town to play against the local Red Sox affiliate, the Greenville Drive.  But the thing we absolutely adore, is the personal relationship we have made with the players, the coaches and the family members over all of these years.

Luisa and I continue to stay in touch with the hundreds of people from all of these countries, celebrating birthdays or just reaching out to see how they are doing.  We worry about them just like we worry about other family members through the disastrous hurricanes to the violence and horrible conditions in their home countries.

Every year when the players leave, it feels like we are losing a part of our family.  It is really painful, especially when you consider what some of these players will be going back home to, such as those from Venezuela or the Dominican Republic and even Puerto Rico which was hammered by Hurricane Maria shortly after the team was here.   We have definitely shed our fair share of tears for everyone of our teams from all of the countries we have been with throughout these years.  As Nolan Ryan once said: "Baseball life is a tough life on the family.".

The effort we have put into the tournament, along with that of all of the other truly amazing volunteers, is incredible.  It is exhausting but extremely rewarding.  So much so that we all come back every year to do it once again.

The past couple of years though, have been extremely difficult for Luisa and I due to the losses of our biggest fans and most dedicated baseball loving family members.  We announced at the beginning of this year's tournament that this was our last year volunteering as a Host Family for the tournament.  We will be taking some time to heal our hearts and souls before we begin our next adventure of giving back.  We are not sure yet what that adventure will be but during this healing time we hope to visit our baseball friends in their home countries or wherever they are across the US in the major ballparks.  We may even hit Williamsport one day in the future.

These 15 years have been some of the most fun and rewarding moments we have looked forward to every year.  It was our thing we did as a family to give back, to keep in touch with our Caribbean and Latin American roots in an area where at times, we felt isolated.  But most of all, to pay it forward and set an example of how to do so and have fun at it.

Para nuestra gente de todos los equipos, deseamos verlos un dia alla si Dios quiera. Gracias por las oportunidad de participar en estos momentos tan especiales con ustedes.  Que Dios los bendiga siempre.

                                                                                                          "Los Padrinos"

The Beginning of Grief

I read in a recent post, in a Facebook Group for Alzheimer's caregivers, that an Alzheimer's family watches a person diagnosed with this awful disease die twice.  When the one they love is first diagnosed with Alzheimer's and then in the end when that person takes their last breath.

I would agree with that, but would also add, when they forget you, and when they forget who they are.  When they forget their grandchildren, their spouse and many more moments like this.

It has been two months since mom took her last breath and finally was no longer dealing with her terminal disease.  Mom's passing brought back memories of when her journey, as well as ours, took the wrong turn down this long, one way, incredibly dark road.  When we actually began to grieve.

In the past year and a half, our family has endured lots of losses.  Many opportunities for grief and to really understand all of the various ways a person can grieve. Our grief with mom was as long and painful as the days we had with her, tending to her every need.   We absolutely had shining moments with her during this time but were reminded daily about how horrible this disease is and how much it devastated her and our family.

I remember when we first started to notice mom forgetting things.  At first it was subtle things, like how to say something or where she put things like her purse.  Then it was her admission that something was wrong saying "yo no se lo que me pasa.  Se me estas olvidando las cosas." (I don't know what is happening to me.  I am forgetting things.)

My sisters, wife and I suspected something was not right and we would text each other to keep a closer look at her and to let everyone know if we noticed her getting worse.

About a year later, in September 2008, mom and dad were involved in a car accident, that truthfully, they should have not survived from.  There was definitely a guardian angel looking out for them.

They were in their Ford Explorer, crossing a major intersection, when dad misjudged the tractor trailer passing by and clipped the back end of the trailer with his front end as he made a left turn onto the highway.  They were caught and the car flipped, turned, rolled over and over into a ditch.  My mom who had been buckled in the front seat was found in the backseat.  Both of my parents were knocked unconscious and luckily for them, my dad had my business card in his wallet.  The officer took the card and called me.  I did not recognize the number but answered it and when he asked if I was Rafy, I knew something was wrong.

They spent the night in the hospital, both with concussions and other bruises for observation.  A few weeks later, we decided to have mom checked by a neurologist.  It was then that it was confirmed that mom was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's.  Mom had just turned 66 years old and that was the first day we started to grieve about losing mom.  The news was devastating and all we could do was cry.

We had seen The Notebook, other movies, and knew about the disease in passing but did not know what was really about to transform or should I say consume and at times, overwhelm, our family.
Luisa was distraught and continued to tell me she was sorry, while my mind was beginning to think about what was going to happen next, how to prepare for the coming storm, but also what Alzheimer's really meant.

I immersed myself online, ordering videos and books as well as joined the local Alzheimer's support group at the local library.  Initially, I would go by myself or with Luisa, but eventually decided that I would have to take Dad with me.  He was in denial and we really needed him to be on board and to understand what was going to affect mom.  Even that this early stage, it was very common to hear him tell mom "Angelita, I just finished telling you that. What's wrong with you? Did you not pay attention?"

At the Alzheimer's meeting, I learned about an Alzheimer's/memory research effort at the Medical University of SC in Charleston.  Roughly a 3-hour drive from home.  I made an arrangement for us to head down there and visit for an initial consultation.  Mom was nervous, partially about the long drive but also because of the battery of questions they asked her, such as who is the President, when was her birthday, what day was it, what was her husband's name...etc.  They told us they would get back to us after they analyzed the results of the exam but wanted us to come back a few days later.

We went down there the second time hopeful that they would be able to accept her into a medical trial to help fix the problem.  Once again they did another analysis of her, asking her more questions and stressing her out, unintentionally.  We discussed what trials they had in place, how the research trials work and that is when we found out that there was no guarantee that she would actually get any real medication but could be given a placebo.  After all, they needed to do A/B comparisons to see if the treatments actually worked.  They also shared with us the risks of the medication if indeed she got some, that could have very serious side effects.

I immediately flashed back to a conversation with one of the other couples I met at the Alzheimer's support meeting, that was participating in one of these trials, that the brain of the patient dealing with Alzheimer's had started to swell up due to one of those "side effects".  They ended up having to pause the trial due to this but were going to go back later to try to participate in another trial.

On my way home, all I could hear was mom saying how she did not like going there because they stressed her out with all of the questions.  I remember the traffic being horrible, and it taking almost 4 hours to get home.  We would be expected to make that trip twice a week, every week, with no guarantees mom would get the medicine, would always be put through the battery of tests, would travel about 7 hours round trip, and the risk of having a side effect that could be worse than the journey we were about to face.  Even though we did not truly understand at the time what "that journey" was.

I dropped my parents off at their house and drove home crying all of the way to the point that I almost had to pull over because I could not see from the tears rushing from my eyes.  Wondering what I should do.  How could I put mom through what I just described?  But also, how could I not at least try everything I could control, to help her.  To not try it would be to admit that I would be breaking the promise I made to her that I would take care of her.  That decision was the worst one I have had to ever do in my life and to this day, have not felt grief as much as I did that day.  That is when I came to the realization that my mom was dying and I was helpless to help her.  I called my sisters and said we could not do this.  They all agreed.  I don't believe I slept that night.

Weeks later after the numbness of this decision wore off, though the guilt never does, my attitude towards the road we faced changed.  Our new goal was to make mom our first priority.  To enjoy every moment we had with her. To record every moment we could.  To make laughter our first medicine, along with understanding what medical care we could give her to slow down this disease and most of all, give us more time with her.

That is, until we got the news that dad was diagnosed with cancer in 2011.

Two months today when our grief over mom changed.  1 year, 3 months, 10 days since dad took his last breath.  I miss you both.

Habichuelas Blancas - The Circle of Life

Growing up in a Puerto Rican household I used to always say that Puerto Ricans have as many flavors of beans as Baskin Robins has of ice cream.  The staple Puerto Rican diet consisted of Rice and Beans with a side of meat, be it pork, beef, chicken, cod fish... whatever.  There was a different kind of bean to complement the white or yellow rice and the meat we would have.

The NY Times in a March 1985 article entitled, Puerto Rico's Quite Edge, had this quote: "The delights of lunch, for $6 or $7, on some of the hotel's Puerto Rican specialties - say, onion steak with rice and beans and plantains, followed by a siesta in a hammock on the terrace overlooking the forest - is one reason people who visit Puerto Rico's west keep coming back."

I remember the garden my dad had, where he would grow tomatoes and beans.  Don't remember much else he grew but I am sure there were other things as well.

When I was young, our family went on vacation to Puerto Rico and we happened to be there during the time that the beans were ready to be picked.  I remember sitting on my uncle's porch with my uncle, aunt, parents and cousins helping them peel the beans that had been freshly picked.

It was a tradition that probably goes back hundreds of years there and was common in my house in NJ every year.

Several years after my parents moved down, my dad started growing his garden in the back of his house.  He started with the tradition of tomatoes but quickly figured out that it was way too hot in his back yard with the sun beating down on it from sunrise to sunset.

During one summer, my dad's brother, Tio Confy, came to visit us from Jayuya.  He brought some white beans with him from Puerto Rico and gave them to my dad.  My dad placed the beans in the refrigerator so he can keep them fresh, though dry, with a plan to plant them in his garden the following spring.

Dad planted those beans and low and behold, they took to the sun and produced a fantastic crop.

The pattern repeated itself every year, producing enough beans for dad to share with all of us.  He would also make some great meals with the white beans that he had grown.  Facebook reminded my wife Luisa yesterday, July 1st, of one of those great moments in time. 

In April of 2018, when my dad passed away, we found several bags of beans all neatly separated in the freezer.  5 bags to be exact.  We gave one bag to each family member (my 3 sisters and I) to make a meal in memory of dad.  I also gave one to our cousin Manuel, Tio Confy's son, for him to take home and remember our father with.  After all, it was his father's beans that started that annual event here in SC.

I also found a bag of dried beans along with bags of corn, pumpkins and squash in the refrigerator. All from Tio Confy and the ones dad used to plant his garden every year.

This year, my sisters and I all repeated the tradition in our own respective gardens.

Yesterday, July 1st, 2019, I picked my first beans that I had ever grown.  I've been thinking about the beans for about a month now.  How will I know when they are ready to pick?  Have we given them enough time, for them to mature and not end up with string beans?

I got my answer from Dad in Luisa's post. Exactly 2 years to the day, Dad's post was telling me it is time to pick the beans.  They're ready.

 

When I was a teenager I got sick and tired of eating rice and beans everyday to the point that I complained to my dad, why do we always have to have rice and beans.  Why couldn't we be like the other families and have Pizza, Spaghetti, Chinese food and other stuff.  My dad said because we are Puerto Rican and we have Rice and Beans.  That's our food.

Life is a circle that can repeat itself if we want to.  It is symbol of our traditions, our values, our culture, and our identity.  But just like the beans, we have to plant, water and nurture them to continue those precious traditions.

Thank you Dad for the wonderful tradition, for the memories, for the beans and most of all, for giving us the signal that they were ready to be picked.  Today marks 15 months since you took your last breath.  I miss you.