Letter to Mom

Dear Mom,

Thank you for spending this time with me,

especially the last six years.

You taught me about love in the way that you cared

For me and my siblings,

Even when you were tired or sick

With seemingly nothing left to give.

You were still there.

You taught me about love in the way that

You cared for dad

Despite his obvious flaws and failings,

Faithful to the end

Especially his last 14 years,

Strokes, seizures and all.

In that, I saw true strength.

You gave me so many gifts:

I was the only first grader who got a

Ruben sandwich for lunch,

Cooked fresh that morning,

Toasted golden brown because

You woke up at the crack of dawn to make our lunches

Before driving an hour to work.

An enduring love of music,

Piano lessons when I was 5,

Sing alongs to Glen Campbell’s “Wichita Lineman.”

I remember the nights you stayed up

Sewing my piano recital outfits,

So proud, even when I didn’t play that well.

You came to every single one.

An appreciation for science

By giving me my first microscope at eleven,

Taking me to work and showing me

My own chromosomes.

It was a wondrous experience!

Endlessly curious and creative

You never left a problem unsolved, if you could help it,

You made my 8th grade graduation dress,

Complete with delicate crocheted lace insets

That you figured out from a photo

That I gave you from Ladies Home Journal.

And always practical,

You amassed a bag of tools and gadgets

That could fix any issue in the house.

And you did, not Dad!

We had so many adventures together:

Exploring the monkey house at the National Zoo

During my first grade field trip,

Our cross country trip,

Taking turns driving, awed by the Great Salt Flats,

Gambling in Reno,

Fresh cherries on the dusty back roads of California,

Taking high tea and having our Tarot cards read,

Making May baskets,

And watching the “Joy Luck Club” with your sisters,

Pura and Nellie,

Just to name a few.

Some of your gifts I didn’t appreciate

Until much later in life,

Like a love of nature.

It was your passion for gardening and love of birds

That inspired me to become a naturalist.

Memories of picking figs, apples and pears

From the trees you planted in the backyard,

Or the roses, azaleas and bearded irises

That bloomed every year,

Echoed back to me during last year’s lockdown,

And helped me find hope again.

Perhaps your biggest gift

Was helping me realize my dreams.

For giving me that opportunity

To leave a perfectly good government job

And follow my heart to become a meditation teacher.

For planting those seeds, unbeknownst to me,

By having books and tapes about QiGong before

I even knew what it was.

For supporting me by giving me a soft place to land,

When from the outside it might look like I was failing.

You always believed in me.

And whenever I was scared about life and my choices,

I only had to remember your incredible courage,

Grit and herculean strength,

As you moved two young children to Washington, DC,

After you trained in Cytology so that you could

Create a life that would support them.

Oh, the adversity that you survived:

Sustenance, at times, from a few pats of butter,

Begging to keep the television so Pepe could learn English,

Heat from the oven to keep you warm.

Mama, everything that I am is because of you.

Thank you for my life.

You have no idea how many lives that you have touched,

Directly and indirectly,

With your kind and quiet presence.

Your light, your legacy lives on forever,

In me and my siblings,

And all of those who we touched.

Your parents named you well, Luz,

Incandescent, luminescent,

Giver of life,

A force sometimes taken for granted because of its

Unfailing consistency,

Ever present

Just like the sun.

You always knew,

With your calm assurance and unwavering faith,

That life would take care of us,

No need for worry or concern.

I am honored, privileged, blessed,

To have spent these last years with you.

Remember laughing out loud at our favorite movies?

Transported to verdant fields by our favorite songs?

You inspired me to look for the beauty in all things,

Even in the depths of pain and sorrow.

Your relentless optimism

Invited me to release my cynicism,

And not close my heart.

Watching you face each loss, each change

With steadfast grace,

Never hysterical or overly dramatic,

But with a steely strength and restraint

That showed you had surrendered to something

Greater than yourself.

You trusted life,

Trusted God,

And me, to hold your hand

Until it was done.