The Ends of the World

Before the world ended as we know it in 2020, my world as I knew it ended in 2019. It’s been six years since my Mother passed away and it still feels like yesterday. I think about her often, I talk and write to her often, I ask for advice and for her to guide me through my intuition in some way, and you’d be surprised how often my gut reaction is on the money.

That’s because when I say my world ended, I’m not saying it in a tragic sense, even though it’s obviously sad that I don’t have Mom on this plane to talk to. It was a personal paradigm shift where I found myself without grandparents or parents and it was odd. It’s not like I shed a skin, though it was transformative. It has to be, simply because you have to come to terms with the fact that those calls in the morning, lunch, and in the evening would become monologues and that responses would come in signs, feelings, and all manner of random things where Mom keeps popping up and saying hi. 

 

Today is also Father’s Day, and yesterday I was lucky enough to spend time with both my brothers and two of my cousins to celebrate in family. So it was natural for me to also think about Dad. My middle brother showed a picture where he had grown a magnificent mustache and looked like a green-eyed variant of Dad. 

Dad, Mom, and my bro.

So it’s a day with a lot of mixed emotions, though I can’t say sadness. Longing for a chat? Yes. But not melancholy. It’s not that it doesn’t happen and doesn’t come along, it’s that today I don’t feel melancholy. It probably has to do with everything that’s going on in the world and things being so heavy that thinking about my parents doesn’t weigh a ton today. It’s been six years without Mom, and twenty-two without Dad. And it’s weird, because I also remember that when he passed away it was also an end of the world moment. One that brought a lot of life lessons, though so has the hindsight I’ve experienced in two decades without him. 

 

I think that as we get older, chunks of the world or versions of our world fade away, evolve, shift, fall, break, or transition. I think it depends on the life event, the person, and the circumstances, though it still becomes a different world. One day you have a parent, the next you have a memory but you still carry that love, though by nature, it is forced to change and evolve. And it’s not a bad thing, it’s just life. 

 

While thinking about this, I think about my home spot where I surf and how it shifts with tides, swells, storms, erosion, and all manner of things. There are some core things that shall always be there, like certain parts of the reef. Sure, many things in the environment change, but those pieces of reef do not. 

 

 

No matter how big the waves come... 

 

No matter how violent the storms... 

 

No matter how much or how little the sands shift...

 

That chunk of reef is a constant and I think back to when I was a kid and I realize how many things I keep alive and maintain to this day, all pieces of my reef. And I realize that constants help remind us of who we are, regardless of what the world brings, and how many of those worlds end. 

 

So on this Father’s Day that coincides with Mom’s anniversary, I raise a glass to both Mom and Dad. I live in a different world than when you were here, though my reef remains, as does the love for you, which shall always be there. 

 

Cheers Mama Estrada, Cheers Papa Carlos, and to you kind reader... 

 

Peace, love, and maki rolls.

 

 

El muchacho de los bizcochos

Llevo en Atlanta casi 9 años y todavía hay gente que me hablan de los bizcochos de mi Madre. He tenido muchos nombres en mi vida: Jorge, George, Jorge Alberto (uy de mí si escuchaba ese), Cheech, Giogio, Gio y en la última década, JD. Ahora hubo un nombre por el cual me conocieron en muchos trabajos cuando estaba en Puerto Rico: el muchacho de los bizcochos.

 

Aunque he aprendido a hacer algunos de los bizcochos de Mama con un nivel de éxito inferior, pero al menos respetable, la de los bizcochos siempre fue mi Madre. La cantidad de cumpleaños, bodas, quinceañeros, fiestas, reuniones y festividades que contaban con un bizcocho de Marietta fácilmente raya en los cientos y posiblemente en los miles. A menudo yo le decía a Mama que hiciera cierta cantidad de bizcochos que yo se los vendía en la oficina, así volviéndome en distribuidor oficial de Marietta’s Sweets aparte de mis labores como redactor creativo en publicidad y relaciones públicas. Esto quiere decir que a menudo tenía que hablar con un supervisor o alguien de recursos humanos para que estuvieran bien con esas actividades ya que no me quería quedar con los bizcochos y sin la soga ni la cabra. Nunca tuve un pero. Al revés, me lo agradecían y me preguntaban para cuándo pudiese traer bizcochos.

 

Para la celebración de los cumpleaños del mes a menudo traía uno o dos (o hasta tres) bizcochos de Mama. En otras oficinas tenía una parte de mi escritorio dedicada al almacenamiento de bizcochos. De promotor, siempre hablaba confiado porque no sólo conocía a la chef, sino que tenía la dicha de probar los bizcochos desde las paletas de cuando estaba lista la mezcla hasta literalmente minutos salido del horno.

 

En más de una ocasión me preguntaban que si me preocupaba que en el trabajo no me tomarían en serio por vender bizcochos o si me afectaría. Contestaba que siempre cumpliría con todo lo que se me pediría porque una cosa no tiene que ver con la otra. Además, es mi Madre y por ella lo que fuera y más esto, que le traía felicidad a ella y a toda persona que se llevara un pedazo de sus bizcochos. Así fue en cuatro oficinas que trabajé. Con días dedicados a traer bizcochos o con un bizcocho o una bolsa de bizcochos en mi escritorio, listo para vender, aunque siempre cumpliendo con mis labores. Ella siempre le llenaba el corazón saber que sus bizcochos eran un hit y que la gente a menudo no se conformaba con un pedazo.

 

Hoy por hoy, aunque ya no vendo bizcochos siguen vivos en mis cuentos. Mrs. Fawn es de mis personajes favoritos para escribir porque es inspirada por mi madre. Aparece en varios de mis libros que no están relacionados porque ese personaje carga una magia universal y ella está conmigo en todo. Además de su rol importantísimo en el cosmos, Mrs. Fawn no se limita a ese tipo de magia, ya que siempre tiene un pedazo de bizcocho de limón listo para brindarle a alguien en su camino, para endulzarle la vida y traerle una sonrisa con cada bocado.

 

Como mencioné arriba, era testigo del proceso entero de la creación de un bizcocho de Marietta. Desde la mezcla ya sabía que iba a quedar en su punto, aunque también el semblante de esta, la delicadeza como pasaba la mezcla al molde y sus aromas encantadores que permeaban la casa entera mientras la magia se daba en el horno. Pero más allá de la receta, había algo que no podía faltar y que se incluía en cada bizcocho y que siempre hubo en sobreabundancia de su parte: amor.

 

Hoy hubiesen sido 76 y aunque brindamos por ti hoy, la realidad es que cada vez que levanto una copa, tu nombre está ahí y lo llevo tatuado en el alma. Con mis cuentos, sigo el legado de los bizcochos porque aunque seré muchas cosas, parte de mí siempre será el muchacho de los bizcochos.

 

Gracias por acompañarnos hoy.

 

Dos abrazos, un pedacito de bizcocho de limón y Cheers Mama Estrada.

 

#CheersMamaEstrada

 

Brindando con palabras

En esta ocasión quiero celebrar a nuestra Madre en verso. Así que si me regalan un minuto o dos y me acompañan, se lo agradezco.

-

Contigo y punto

 

No soy reflejo, ni sombra.

Soy amor destilado.

Una de tres joyas

De una piedra madre.

Una de tres ramas

Que la raíz sigue nutriendo.

Soy un deseo,

Un sueño,

Una sorpresa,

Una sonrisa inesperada pero familiar.

 

Me veo en sus ojos

Como ella se veía en los míos.

 

Compartimos rasgos de una sonrisa

También terquedad y cariño.

Compartimos fuego que arde

Y agua mansa que calma.

Compartimos alma

Compartimos corazón

Compartimos nombre

Y compartimos vida.

 

Porque lo bueno se comparte

Y de ella recibí lo mejor.

 

El amor perdura

Las memorias viven

Y en sueños te sigo viendo.

 

En mi voz te escucho

En mi paciencia te recuerdo

En el olvido queda el tiempo.

 

Un minuto

Cinco años

Una vida

 

En mis palabras te consigo

Y en mis cuentos me descubro

Porque cuando se trata del amor

Descubrir se trata de explorar y develar.

 

Por siempre conmigo

Por siempre contigo

Por siempre y punto.

- 

Gracias por leer y acompañarnos. Dos abrazos y un adiós.

El Hijo de Marietta

Five for one or 1,827

What is a second?

 

What is a minute?

 

What is a day?

 

What are 1,827 days?

 

That’s the time that’s passed since we last had Mom in this plane of existence, give or take a minute or a lifetime. I think of her and the pain is not any lesser or farther. Although I may be more comfortable with it because I keep Her so present, I can’t say it’s easier. That’s the wrong word for what I feel. Instead, I lean into the feeling to better understand it.

 

It’s not a void or an emptiness because her love is incapable of leaving a void. And there’s pain with that love, of course. How could there not be? But I speak to Her every single day. I go on walks and find a moment to catch Her up on things. I journal every night and I write to my personal trinity: God, then Mom, then myself. It’s a practice that has helped me more than I can describe.

 

There’s a common quote that says something along the lines of, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” I believe in this quote because I think there is something out there after we pass on. Although it’s possible that there’s nothing, it’s just as possible that there is something. What’s true is that 5 years after She’s passed, I still feel Her. People write me from all over my life and all over the world to tell me they were thinking about Mom or they dreamt about Her. People normally preface this by saying, I don’t mean to bring this up but I thought/dreamt/talked to your Mom.

 

There is nothing to apologize and I’m thankful for anyone kind enough to reach out to say something like this. I appreciate people sharing memories and stories I didn’t know about. I treasure every new picture someone finds and sends along. I am treasure every time someone reads anything I wrote and tell me they love Mrs. Fawn.

 

I take particular care in everything I write with characters inspired by people I love and if Mrs. Fawn is amazing, it’s because of Mom. There’s as much magic to the character as there is love, whimsicalness, depth, vulnerability, and strength. As a writer, although I know I can get better, I know that I cannot write with more love in certain circumstances and for certain characters. In hindsight, I realize that I wrote Her just outside our existence and swimming in a river of time because I needed that. I’ll always need that because I need writing to make sense of what I live and Mom helps me make sense of what I live. Some readers find out Mrs. Fawn is based on Mom and many say they wish they could have met Her. I reply by saying that in a way, they did.

 

1,827 days might be a bleep in the cosmos or feel like a lifetime. Maybe it’s a little bit of everything and not just one thing. What we feel and how we feel it is up to us though. When someone loses a loved one, I never say, “I know exactly what you’re going through.” I never say it because it might be a nice sentiment, but it’s false. Only you know how you feel and allowing yourself to feel is something I shall always encourage.

 

For Mom, I feel love, joy, melancholy, laughter, sadness, pride, anger, gentleness, strength, vulnerability, confusion, clarity, and everything in between. I feel this and more. I experience this and more. And I allow myself to feel whatever I have to feel. Life is a river. We might pick things up along the way, but forever much we want to get back to where we were, it flows on and ahead there is the sea. So a part of me thinks we’re giving Mom a good lead so she can find us the best places to surf, to dine, to share a glass of wine or its metaphysical equivalent. I think this in part because it gives me peace and in part because it’s possible.

 

What happens next? We don’t know.

 

But what’s happened? That’s our treasure and I’m proud of our crown jewel and all the amazing gems I’ve found along the way. And I’m thankful to you for reading and giving this text a moment of your time, which is the greatest gift of all.

 

Peace, love, and lemon cake

 

 

Steps to smile

Life does not come with an instruction manual. Sure, you might come across advice, tips, tricks, and even lessons, but the reality is that you’re learning as you go and more often than not, it’s educated guesswork and hoping for the best. Still, there’s a rhythm to life and many steps we learn along the way get embedded deep into our DNA.

 

I was fortunate to learn how to love freely and openly from early on in my life thanks to my first love, Mom. People often say that I’m very affectionate and the fact of the matter is that I’ve received love from even before I was born. Mom talked to me often while I was in the belly and I’ve often mentioned people wouldn’t come into her hospital room because they thought she had someone visiting, when in reality it was just little ole me she was chatting away to. But it wasn’t limited to her. I’ve always received a lot of love from my family and I’m very conscious that having that is a huge gift and something I try and pay forward as much as I can. In my life, there has been no shortage of love, hugs, kisses, and affection. The contrary actually. There’s been an overabundance of it and life has also blessed me with a good memory to remember all the love I’ve received and continue to receive.

 

It's taught me to hug freely, to reach out when I think about or dream of someone, to write personalized birthday messages privately, to do my best to not judge, and to find as many smiles as possible in myself and others. I’ve read in many places that people won’t necessarily remember you, but they will sure as hell remember how you made them feel. At almost 5 years after her passing, people still have beautiful things to say and share about Mom and kind words on her birthday, on Mother’s Day, and on the anniversary of her passing. That speaks volumes of how she made people feel and it fills me with even more love and pride knowing she was that way with so many people.

 

I do my best to do her proud, to love freely and openly, to make time for the people I love, to always pick up the phone or call back as soon as I can to people who matter, to be in touch, to put my attention when someone is speaking to me, and to remember small tidbits that others overlook. Mom had a knack for remembering small details of people and I do my best to do the same while giving it my spin.

 

As a life dance partner, Mom taught me so much that I put into practice every day, though the biggest lesson she taught me was to embrace who and how I was and to follow my path. She never imposed what I should study or what I should do professionally and I did the same for her. I gave her advice, but more than that, I gave her support, because she taught me that the power of saying “it’ll be OK” can make all the difference and that an “I told you so” not only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but they’re also not worth much.

 

I’ve learned from virtues, flaws, mistakes, and victories, hers and my own. I’ve filed away the long winding conversations we shared which shall live rent-free in my heart. And I remember and celebrate her with every step I take on the dancefloor of life.

 

I also remember my other angels and although I miss them all intensely, I hold them dearly and raise a glass while dancing in this life. Sure, you can trip or miss a step, but you can either focus on the mistake, or you can laugh it off or make a recovery to continue enjoying the dance.

 

Our beautiful Tata (Emma) and Mama Estrada being their beautiful selves.

In the past months, a lot of people I care about have lost someone they love and some have had a rough go of it. To them, I wish I could give them a big hug and to cry with them to share that moment because I’ve noticed something about some of the most loving hugs I’ve had in my life. Unconsciously, we press tight and take a step, and then another, and then another. It almost seems like we slow dance in that embrace…and it makes total sense to me. Life has its music and our hearts carry a rhythm that takes us from one day to the next. Some people think it ends once we pass away, but when I think of Mom and the angels I love dearest in my life, I have to disagree with that thought. I still feel the beat of her heart within mine. Sure, I miss her and I always will, but beyond DNA, we shared life and love, and that stays with you until it reunites in the big dance of the universe.

 

So, if you’ve lost someone, cry if you have to. It’s good to do so. To release and recognize that loss. But also listen within. Their music is still there, still beating, still inviting you to share and to dance with others. If you need a moment to recover, that’s OK. If you need to sit a song out, that’s OK too. Just remember that life is a dance floor and there’s always another song to dance to, another new step to learn, and another smile to share.

 

Peace, love, and maki rolls.

 

Beautiful picture of the Estrada Family way back when

 

Redefiniendo el tiempo

Hoy sería el cumpleaños #75 de Mama. A casi 5 años de su partida, me sigue sorprendiendo lo reciente que se siente. Aunque tengo más canas y las entradas están más desarrolladas, sigo siendo el hijo de Marietta y parte de mí siempre lo será.

 

Uno de los ajustes más intensos que tuve que hacer a su partida fue ver cómo me organizaba. De camino al trabajo hablaba con ella. De vuelta del trabajo hablaba con ella. A veces durante la hora de almuerzo la llamaba. Le daba forma a mi día gracias a ella y siempre había algo para compartir y contar. Aún en los días que no pasaba nada, siempre había algo que contar entre nosotros.

 

Sigo hablándole todos los días y cuando escribo a la noche en mi diario, recapitulo lo que pasó en el día, de qué estoy agradecido, le doy gracias a Dios por las bendiciones, le escribo a Mama y le cuento un poquito de lo que está pasando poniéndola al día con acontecimientos y cierro hablándome a mí mismo con palabras de reflexión y apoyo. Cuando voy a caminar, siempre hago un alto a mitad de mi ruta y le hablo a Mama ya sea en un banquito, bajo la sombra de un árbol o frente al río que tanto asocio con ella por alguna razón.

 

En mis cuentos, la capturé como Mrs. Fawn y si has leído mis libros, pues podemos hablar más de por qué su personaje es quien es y por qué sus habilidades. En el último libro, tiene un rol muy importante y capturo mucho de lo que experimenté con ella esos últimos meses y días. Y es que ella siempre le dará forma a mi realidad de alguna manera u otra. Mucho compartimos y aunque me hace una falta descomunal y fácilmente se me aguan los ojos al pensar de ella, también se me hace igual de fácil sonreír por todo lo que vivimos juntos.

 

Hay personas que me han preguntado cómo se maneja el dolor al perder a alguien que quieres y siempre digo que es algo que cada persona tiene que definir y que tienes que buscar lo que te funciona. A mí me llena brindar por ella, incluirla en mi diario, escribir sobre ella en mis cuentos, contarle a la gente cosas y ocurrencias de ella, recordar buenos tiempos e internalizar todo el amor que compartimos. El dolor está, ahora el dolor es energía y la podemos poner a trabajar en favor de algo bonito. Un poema, una canción, un cuento, un dibujo, un favor a alguien, un acto de solidaridad, una llamada a un amigo que extrañas, una sonrisa a alguien que te dijo buenos días. Puede ser algo grande o algo chiquitititititito pero la opción está ahí.

 

No es de no llorar. No es de no sentir. Es de buscar balance y recordar que si duele es porque tocó tu vida, porque sigue siendo importante y porque tu vida es mejor al haber tenido a esa persona contigo. Yo sigo celebrando a Mama con un Cheers Mama Estrada con cada copa que me doy. Y cuando me regalo un momento, sigo impresionado por el tiempo que ha pasado y lo rápido que pasa.

 

Y esa es la única realidad que te puedo decir con certeza. El tiempo vuela y nos toca aprovecharlo a lo máximo. Si lo puedes hacer hoy, hazlo hoy. Si algo interfiere, ponte un recordatorio. Recuerda que hay que ser terco para la bueno. También busca el balance siempre y vela por no enfocarte en cosas que no valen la pena. Un año suena como mucho, pero todavía se divide en días, horas, minutos y segundos. Ama libremente. Busca todas las sonrisas que puedas. Si hay pocas sonrisas, cosecha sonrisas como puedas. Date la dona. Tómate el vino. Llama a tu amiga. Date una cerveza con tu pana. Complace antojos todas las semanas. Mantente en contacto con tus seres queridos de la manera que puedas y vive.

 

La vida dolerá, ahora cada día es una invitación a vivir y disfrutar. No es que no haya preocupaciones, dolores, pérdidas y frustraciones. La vida es vida y seguirá el rumbo que tenga que seguir. Ahora, no le quita que cada día es una oportunidad para disfrutar, brindar, celebrar y hablar con tus seres queridos, aún los que ya no están en este plano.

 

Gracias a todo el mundo que me ha enviado felicidades a Mama por su cumpleaños. Sigo sorprendido por lo rápido que pasa el tiempo al igual que sigo sorprendido por todo el amor que ella sigue inspirando. Gracias por dejarme compartir ese amor y te guardo un abrazo para cuando nos veamos en agradecimiento por leerme, quererme a mí y a los míos y por compartir un pedacito de vida conmigo.

 

Dos abrazos y un adiós.

 

JD

At peace with a goodbye

Four years ago, Mom passed away.

 

During her last days with us, my brothers and I took turns staying with her at the hospital. We knew it was nearing time and we wanted to be with her and each of us poured our love for her as we often did, because that is our way. I was with her on the night she passed away and when I came to switch places with my brother, we both kind of knew it would be that night

 

Some people have asked me, how do you get ready for something like that? And all I’m sure of is that the answer will change from person to person, because what your heart dictates is unique to you.

I’d been in touch with my brothers and I had that feeling, so I did my best to get ready for that evening. I would take some books to read. I would talk to her. And sometime during the day, I got the notion in my head that I needed to write her something...So I got on the computer and wrote a short story.

 

For a frame of reference, it was like one of my Daydreams but in Spanish. In the story, I kind of guide her to her happiest moments and bring in person after person to send her off not with tears but with smiles. I bring in special people that had meant the world to her and described her at peace, a bit surprised, but at peace. In the story, me and my brothers took her along a little tour and led her to a place where there was a rainbow bridge. I wrote that all the dogs were waiting for her along with her Mom and Dad and that she could go in peace, because we would be OK. I also wrote that she did absolutely brilliant and that if at any point we cry, it’s for the right reasons, but that we’d continue to say cheers with love and keeping her present always with plenty of smiles in tow, as was her way.

 

I cried all the way as I wrote the story and I’m fully aware I did it for her as much as I did it for myself. So often in life, I can only make sense of life and what I’m feeling through what I write, and this was no exception. I finished the story, printed it, and took it with me to the hospital.

 

When I got there, I saw my brother and we exchanged that look of knowing. I gave him a hug and told him she’d be fine and that I’d be in touch. To not worry and try to get some rest. I love both of my brothers and I’m proud to be an Estrada boy because of Mom and because of them.

 

My brother leaves and I take a breath, smile, and turn around to say hi to Mom. I let her know I brought a bunch of things to read and share and that I was just there to hang out. I knew she wasn’t feeling that great and that was OK. I just wanted to let her know that if she so happened to want to shut all of us up and miraculously recover, we wouldn’t mind one bit. I also told her that if she wanted to stay a bit longer, that was OK too. Finally, I did mention that if she wanted to leave that night, that was also fine. I was there and would do my best to keep her company.

 

I spoke to her with as much gentle love I could. I wanted my voice to be as soothing as possible, again, for her as well as for me. I talked to her so much that night...about everything and nothing. I told her so many random things just to chat. I played her some of her favorite music as well as some tracks I’d found that were helping me a lot and I thought they could help her too. I read poetry to her and some of my essays. Then I pulled out the new story and apologized for the typos and things that I could improve, but that I did want to share that first draft with her. I kissed her head often, and stroked her hand, and did my best to let my love flow to her gently and freely. I wanted to stay awake though eventually, the long day got to me, so I went to sleep holding her hand a bit after midnight.

 

Sometime around two in the morning, I wake up and I feel her breathing’s changed. I’ve never been in a situation like that, but out of instinct I knew it was her moment so I stood next to her, took her hand in mine and told her it was alright. I did my best to soothe her, to comfort her, to hopefully help guide her to the light, and even cracked a joke that I hoped I wasn’t talking too much or being too annoying. I told her how good of a mother she always was and how much of me had been molded by that love. I thanked her for everything. I told her, “If you see a light and want to go there, it’s OK. We’ll be OK.”

 

I felt her breathing becoming more short and intense and I still held onto her hand, being there but not wanting to crowd her. Her breathing started coming in slower gasps and I held onto her, saying I’d be with her there and always. Slower she breathed and I held her throughout, never squeezing, just being there, and letting her go on her terms and when she was ready.

 

I don’t know how long that moment truly lasted. Could have been five minutes or an hour. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was fortunate enough to have the honor to be there and do my best to show her the love that will stay alive as long as I live.I said, "You were beautiful, you were beautiful," until I finally corrected myself and said, "You are beautiful."

 

It’s been four years though parts of me feel like it was yesterday. I don’t think that feeling will ever go away either, by the way. Part of me shall always be open to keep her alive and present because spiritually and genetically, she is a part of me. I feel her from time to time. I feel how she joins in a celebration or to soothe and comfort me. It feels like yesterday, because in some way or another, she’ll always be there because I make that choice every day to keep her present. 

 

So, to the question of how you say goodbye to someone you love, your answer may be a little different, and that’s how it should be, but here’s mine:

 

With as much love as you can...and always leaving the door open.

 

Mama, te amo and we’ll be toasting to you in a bit and actually any chance we get.

 

To you dear reader, who were kind enough to read this, my love to you and thank you for helping me keep Mom alive through these and many other words. If you're going through a hard time, I wish peace upon you and to call on those angels in your life, because they're always there for you. Trust me.

 

Peace, love, and Cheers Mama Estrada

The Line is Always Open

Pic courtesy of my brother, Juanky

When there is an emergency, people are sometimes forced to resort to a landline to get in touch with other people because cell phone towers are down. That this still applies in 2023 is a bit poetic if you ask me. Ever since Mom passed away in 2019, I say that at least we don’t have to worry about any technological or atmospheric disturbance interfering with us keeping in touch.

True contact doesn’t depend on WiFi, it doesn’t care what network you’re on, and 5G is absolutely irrelevant in this scenario. That’s because my line to her is always open and I speak to her in some way or another pretty much every day. The same as I always did.

Occasionally, I’ve been asked about how I cope with grief and having lost her and anyone that I’ve loved in my life. The reality is that the answer changes and evolves along with who and how we are. What I can say today might be different from a year ago and both might be different from what I need in two weeks’ time. Apart from this, the other thing I consistently share is that you need to feel what you have to feel. Earlier in my life I repressed several feelings and it did me no favors. I learned the hard way and it took a lot of effort but I also learned to allow myself to feel, engage with, and understand those feelings.

So write it out. Play it out. Surf it out. Draw it out. Sing it out. Whatever you feel, don’t ignore or bury what you’re feeling. Express it, embrace it, understand it, and cherish it.

Part of me says that today would have been Mom’s 74th birthday while another part of me corrects that it is her 74th birthday. Just because Mom is no longer with us in a physical aspect doesn’t take away from the fact that part of her is still alive within me, my brothers, her grandchildren, and countless people she meant the world to and she had an impact on.

I’ve written her countless letters telling her about how things are. Sometimes I ask for her advice. Sometimes I ask for strength, patience, or both. I always do it in the present tense though. Always. I don’t say I wish you could see or hear or partake in anything, I include her in the activity and I truly believe that part of her enjoys and continues to live through the adventures of her loved ones.

I’ve known to take a moment to breathe and talk to her because I’m having a rough time. Often, I feel my breathing settle and a bit of calm returns to me. Sometimes I need to do other things, but the exercise is a start and puts me on the track to handling whatever life throws my way. Having that contact is huge for me and it’s something I shall always maintain.

I began journaling consistently from last year (more on this later) and I’ve found myself writing Mom less letters because I switched to writing her daily in the journal. I also write to God and to myself and am always thankful to all three. That’s one of the things I have been doing every single night for the last several months. Some people might think it’s a coping mechanism and in part that’s true, but the contact is also there and no one can take that away from me.

I have a river nearby and that’s a place I often visit to talk to Mama Estrada. Water is a global connector but part of me feels that it goes beyond the physical and connects us in ways we barely comprehend. It also kind of just feels right to talk to her there, even though I never took her when she stayed with us after Hurricane Maria.

But to this day, there are still some people who ask me about Mom and how she’s doing. People who either haven’t been in touch for years and never found out she passed away or some people who honestly forgot. It never upsets me because I toast to her often and talk about her often as well. From being the subject of several poems to being the inspiration of one of the favorite characters in the Human Cycle, I commune with Mom in countless ways because she’s always going to be with me, so if you tell me to say hi to Mom, I probably will.

When it came to us, I would often say, “I love you,” and she would often respond with an “I love you more.” I would always say that she had the advantage because I took a while to develop consciousness and start registering what a lucky kid I was to have her for a Mom, plus she had me in her womb 9 months where she was able to talk while I was glad to listen. It’s been three and a half years since she passed away and even though I could make a case that I love her more now that some time has passed, I know better, because the lines are always open, the contact is always there, and the love shall stay with me until we can finally share another glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

So happy birthday, Mama Estrada.

Peace, love, and lemon cake

Siempre conectados

Tres años han pasado desde que puedo hablar con Mama a cualquier hora. No necesito tener señal, batería, ni teléfono. Sólo necesito tener un momento para hablar con ella y los busco a menudo.

 

Pienso en Mama y recuerdo todas las veces que sabía exactamente qué decir y cómo manejar una situación. Pienso en Mama y recuerdo las copas de vino, las conversaciones por horas, los abrazos que se quedan contigo y el amor que aún a tres años de su partida lo siento profundamente.

 

Escribo mucho de este tema porque pues, Mama me dio vida y compartimos mucho en los 40 años que lo pasamos junto, ya que si le sumas los meses en la barriga, fueron 4 décadas de amor. Conste, sigo contando porque la mantengo conmigo. Le escribo, le hablo, le pido ayuda, le pido consejos, le pido fuerza, pero también le cuento de las aventuras de la vida. Lo bueno, lo no tan bueno y pues, de todo bastante.

 

Cuando le escribo una carta a Mama, le digo lo que la extraño aunque también le deseo lo mejor donde esté y que espero que haya el equivalente a un buen vino para compartir el día que nos reunamos. Le hablo del presente, de mis triunfos, de mis retos y le cuento de todo porque no quiero que se lo pierda.

 

Recuerdo cuando hablábamos de mi abuelo, su padre, y cómo se sentía tan cerca el día que el falleció. Eso fue en el ’95 y aunque yo le decía a Mama que entendía lo que ella decía, porque sentía algo similar, la entiendo mucho mejor ahora que estoy viviendo por mi versión de eso.

 

A menudo me preguntan que cómo manejo los días de las Madres, sus cumpleaños y días como hoy y siempre respondo lo mismo: hoy no es más difícil que ayer ni que mañana. Todos los días la extraño y la amo porque es parte integral de quién soy y nuestro amor me ha enseñado a escribirle y amarla en el presente. Cuando un barco fluye en el agua o nadamos, se deja una estela. Y qué son estelas sino las olas que creamos en la vida.

 

Comparto lo que siento por ella y cómo enfrento lo que hemos vivido porque es mi manera de compartir sus olas y combinarlas con las mías. Conozco mucha gente bonita que han perdido a seres queridos los últimos años y siempre les invito a que sientan lo que tengan que sentir. También les invito que hablen y que no sientan que tienen que quedarse con algo por dentro. Al hablar soltamos y también creamos un momento, un recuerdo, o una acción.

 

Cada día puede ser uno triste o alegre y está en nosotros cómo celebrarlo. Hoy escogí hablarle a Mama, escribirle una carta, hacer donativos a Save a Sato y Atlanta Humane Society por ser causas que sé que conectarían con ella y al Breast Cancer Research Foundation ya que, al momento, creo que están haciendo buen trabajo y sus altos ejecutivos no se lucran tanto como en otras corporaciones. He estado escuchando el Cheers MamaEstrada playlist con canciones que me hacen pensar en ella y ahora estoy escribiendo este post.

 

Hay días que me da duro y la extraño un poco más de lo usual (que nunca es poco). No tiene que ser hoy, ni el 17 de enero, ni el Día de las Madres. Ahora aún en esos días la celebro y doy gracias porque si la extraño así de mucho, te puedes imaginar el amor que me dio en la vida...y si eso te pone alguna idea de escribirle, llamar o visitar a alguien que amas o de brindar por ellos, pues he hecho bien por ella y por todo lo que nos dio en vida.

 

Gracias por compartir un rato con nosotros, porque esto fue una colaboración entre madre e hijo que siguen creando, compartiendo y amando juntos.

 

Un abrazo,

 

JD

Dancing in Time

Time has a way of flying and more so these times that bring with them so many challenges none of us ever thought we would face. Yet thinking of Mom and talking to her helps ground me a lot. She still brings me peace even in the midst of chaos as do many people whom I love. People who are anchors in our lives and who help us weather whatever storm comes our way. 

There is a temptation to say that today would have been Mama Estrada’s 73^rd birthday. Born in 1949, the math makes sense…what doesn’t make sense is the tense. Saying things in the past might invite some people to leave things in the past and that’s where I struggle. I still talk to her. I still write to her. Even if I miss her intensely, she is part of my past, she shall be part of my future, and she is always present. 

 

I am blessed to have many anchors and many hearts help me in countless ways. From kind words, to boundless love and support, to a meme sent, a phone call given, a text, an email, or hey, even a book review. Acts of kindness can be immensely soothing and healing and if something characterized Mama Estrada, it was her kindness and her abundant random acts of kindness to people who would have not expected her to be the one to offer a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, or advice they would carry for life. Every January 17^th, I receive messages from people saying #CheersMamaEstrada and from time to time, someone offers a little story of who and how she was and the kindness and generosity she showed to them. I smile because every time it’s another treasure I store in my heart’s trove. 

 

The curious thing is that today we also celebrate another magnificent golden girl whom we’ve lost, Betty White, who was just shy of celebrating a century of awesomeness. Mom passed away when she was 70 and it definitely feels like she was taken too soon. Betty White passed away at 99…and even at that age, still too soon. The people that leave a lasting impression will always leave us too soon, even if they outlive a turtle. That’s just the nature of it and I think it’s definitely a sign of greatness. That no matter the time that passes, these people live on in our hearts and even our dreams. I love that Mom shared her birthday with Betty White because they both loved life, loved family, were astoundingly cheeky, and loved dogs…Mom later got a soft spot for cats thanks to the most doglike cat we’ve ever known, our dear Leo. So as a tribute to Mama and our dear Betty, I joined the #BettyWhiteChallenge and donated to Save a Sato (a Puerto Rico based non-profit dedicated to ease the suffering of Puerto Rico’s homeless and abused animals) (http://saveasato.org/donate-for-the-satos) and to the Atlanta Humane Society (https://atlantahumane.org).

 

Mama always loved dogs and adored each of our pups intensely. So in keeping with the topic, I want to share a small story about Mom and one of our pups, Miabella. If you ever visited our home and met our pups, you knew they each had their own unique personality, although from all eight dogs that went through our household, the loopiest had to be Mia. Being a basset hound, she was long, clever, wily, naughty, silly, and was pure love embodied in a not so small and plenty strong body. Imagine a Basking Robbins log ice cream cake, with short legs, and a big heart. The thing is, Mia almost didn’t make it when she was born. Among the many things my Mom was during her life, she was a “canine midwife” on two occasions, once with Tina (our beloved shar-pei and as noble as a dog can be) and once with Kahlúa (our basset momma). 

 

Tina was a trooper and she only had 5 pups so it wasn’t that intense. Mom had been informed by the vet that Kahlúa would have a litter of 7 or maybe 8. Showtime was around 2 AM or Lord knows what hour. It was late, I was sleepy, and for about 3-4 hours, Mom was the “canine midwife” and I was the best “placenta catcher” I was able to be, i.e. beyond moral support, all I could do was hold a plastic bag because although dogs do tear the sacks the pups are in and lick them clean, 7-8 is a tall order and Kahlu needed help, which Mom selflessly and lovingly did. After the 7^th pup, it seemed Kahlúa was done and Mom told me to go back to sleep, which I did. 

 

Fast forward a couple of hours and I am stirred from slumber with some ruckus and I have no idea what’s going on. Exiting my room, I quickly decipher the reason…Kahlúa wasn’t done and after about an hour after I went to sleep, she showed she still had more pups to deliver. Mom was crying though and I asked what had happened. Unfortunately, one of the pups had been born stillborn and it had hit Mom hard…but she had no time to process because more were on the way. The next pup came out fine, but another was also born without breathing. To lose a dog at birth was horrible enough…and Mom wasn’t about to lose a second one. So she cleaned the pup and massaged her chest. She did chest compressions. She put her fingers over the pup’s mouth and she gave her CPR. A family friend who had arrived told her the pup was gone and to let her go, because it had been another of the females, which were in short order in this litter and Mom wasn’t having it. She kept on gently and patiently urging the pup to please hold on, as much for her sake as Mom’s…and she did. The pup coughed, began to move, and she made it and lived a full and long life…because of my Mother’s faith, kindness, and love. Miabella was her name and trust me, that pup lived life with love the likes you’ll rarely see. I’m sure Mom gave a bit of herself so Mia could make it, a small price for the love she gave us and the joy Mom received from her and one of countless examples of her greatness I hold close to my heart.

 

As a person, Mom was wonderfully human and humane. She led with kindness and love and from all reports, Betty White did the same and then some, which we’ll definitely talk about later on this blog. Although leaving a mark is something special, leaving a legacy is something that often just happens because of a person’s nature more than from planning. So on this wonderful day, rather than a tear in my eye, I offer cheers with love in my heart, kindness in my actions, and faith in tomorrow to two golden girls, whom I truly hope can meet up for drinks, laughs, and a cuddle fest with all their furry angels.

 

Peace, love, and #CheersGoldenGirls