Monday, July 4, 2011

It takes a village...or at least a really big family

It's 3:10 in the morning, and I can't shut my brain off.  Everyone else - family and cats - has been asleep for hours, and I can only think about my husband's family many, many miles away.  Today, or yesterday I suppose, Manuel's abuelita said goodbye to this world at the beautiful, well-worn age of 101.  What a full life she led.  If the number of one's offspring is ever a marker of how full your life is then this woman had most beat:  8 kids, 80 grandchildren, God knows how many great grandchildren and actually, several great, great grandchildren (this is mind-boggling).  Ian falls among the most recent, but there is no way to tell where.

I met her on two occasions.  So many people were a product of that sweet lady's loins that whenever a grandchild came to visit they would have to introduce them by their parent's name.  She couldn't quite keep up with it all!  And so, when Manuel dropped in to say hello it was, "This is Manuel... Carmen's Manuel?"  I, naturally, was a nonessential footnote which bothered me none.  I just sat in awe of this woman who had seen and done so many things.  Manuel had told me little anecdotes of her experience of the Revolution... of how Pancho Villa himself had made a stand in her small town.  So much history in 100 years, and her mind was sharp to the end.

Her doctor said she was healthy.  What a wonderful way to go... from purely old age.  To die in your own bed with your entire family around.  That's the way I want to go.  And what a testament to our society.  For whatever reason, we're all just too damn busy to take care of each other.  That American dream, huh?  I suppose it's the price we pay for all our beautiful freedom and all our beautiful stuff.  We sure like our independence until suddenly we can't go to the bathroom by ourselves.

I guess my husband and his family has taught me much over the years we've been together.  Don't get me wrong.  There are things about Mexican culture that drive me batty, but they sure do know how to take care of each other... to really value family.  It's not some meaningless term like "family values" that gets tossed around like here.  We freak about a nipple slip at the Super Bowl, but dad's and mom's alike just bounce on their kids or work so much that they might as well forget Timmy's name. * End rant *

The whole town knew Manuel's Granny, and when he called to check in with his mom he said all he could make out was a mass of people crying.  "They must be pouring in to Jalpa by the busloads..."  I knew he desperately wanted to be there.  Money we don't have, but for this it didn't matter.  A quick check online showed a surprisingly cheap ticket to get him there by Saturday afternoon and home late Monday.  I did the same whirlwind funeral for my Granny two years ago.  And my good friend was also dealing with this two weeks ago.  It's like they say, death is never convenient, right?

So there we were, about to click, click and seal the deal when Manuel practically yells, "My passport!"  Indeed, the only passport in his possession was an expired one.  The irony is that he had applied for a renewal a week ago, and it will more than likely show up in a few days.  So sadly, he was still sitting there at 8:00pm knowing that others were boarding the flight that could get him home.  I take it for granted that my "back home" isn't really his "back home."  True, he's been here for more than ten years, but I know his head and heart were elsewhere today.

Only a little bit selfishly I was glad that he didn't fly.  Zacatecas is not the safest place to be traveling through right now... funeral or not.  Almost triple the number of people have died in Mexico's drug war in the past year and a half than in ten years of America's War on Terror.  Ever Googled that situation?  A grim one indeed.

But... that is another blog for another day.

We held Ian a little tighter today, knowing that we too have begun this journey.  Generations are gathering to celebrate the life of a beautiful spirit.  I can only dream of such a closing.  

Abuelita Lupe celebrating 100 years - June 2010