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

Yesterday is always there

 

There are some things that feel as if they happened eons ago. Then there are some things that feel fresh and recent…as if they happened yesterday. It’s the second time we celebrate Mom’s birthday without her and although I can’t say it’s easier than the first one, I can’t say it’s harder, either. I can only say I miss her and I always will…and I know I’m not alone.

 

Mom was a singular being in so many ways and endlessly special, so it’s easy to miss her. The curious thing is that some people think it’s harder on Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or my birthday, or on a day like today, where we continue to celebrate her. Though I’ve said it before, it’s worth repeating: it isn’t harder today, than it will be tomorrow, than it was yesterday. Every day can be hard and as time passes, I’m still surprised at some of the times when she pops into mind. The most random, curious, silly little things because when you have someone you love profoundly, that love doesn’t need a huge moment or occasion, it just needs your coffee to have sugar just how she liked it, or seeing a movie that she would have enjoyed, or listened to something terrible on the radio you are 1,000% sure she would have bitched about. 

 

This also changes with the people we love. With Dad, I am reminded of him when I myself laugh out loud and realize that a version of his laughter lives in my belly. With my Grandfather, it’s in the spicy food I eat, the old Cuban music I sometimes come across, a great boxing fight, or the places where my hair is thinning. With Tata (my grandmother) it’s in the textures of certain things, certain flavors or temperatures of foods she liked, or when I see a woman with a short hairstyle that reminds me of her, be it from the pictures where it showed just how stunningly beautiful she was in her youth, or as I knew her, an elegantly beautiful woman with impeccable hands and a timeless smile.

 

Love has many definitions and many expressions, and one of those expressions is in how we remember and pay tribute to the ones we love. I shall always write with my heart first (which possibly explains why I have to fix so many verb tenses when I’m editing). I do so in part because Mom quite often led with her heart. Although I love all the stories of her generosity, nothing beats seeing a room light up because she arrived. She had that magic in her. I can see it clearly, closer than yesterday, because those memories live on. I see the things she planted in me and my brothers, I see my nephews and curious moments of kindness that are a combination of our Mom, their own parents, and what they bring to the table. I hear stories of how some people miss her because she would always listen to them when they needed a kind ear and she offered the best advice…something I do my utmost to carry on that legacy with whatever I can bring to a conversation. I get messages from time to time from someone who thought of Mom because they met someone from Cuba and people have been generous in letting me know when they dream of Mom. I’ve had readers focus on the character of Mrs. Fawn and tell me she’s their favorite…and I always smile, because that’s Mom and she is the favorite of a lot of people, each with their own reason, each with several stories. 

 

I’ll always miss you Mom and that feeling shall always be near, because even if yesterday is always there, just out of reach, your love keeps us company, because you are always here. Cheers to you, today, and every day. 

 

Peace, love, and sauvignon blanc.

The Healing Power of Music

Ever since I was a teen, I’ve found a lot of comfort in music. When I was feeling something I couldn’t fully understand, there was some artist or band that took that sensation and created something that helped me say “that… that is what I’m feeling.” Artists like Pearl Jam, Blind Melon, Pink Floyd, Soundgarden, Soda Stereo, Tori Amos, Sting, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and countless others were there for me when words failed me and I couldn’t express what life was throwing my way. 

Music is magical that way. It’s also as healing as it is unifying because that song that means the world to you can also mean the world to someone else. 

There are plenty of songs that have helped me overcome a lot of things and these change depending on the point in my life we're talking about and what I was facing at the time. After Mom’s passing, I decided to make a playlist in her memory and chose 17 songs that mean something to me and have helped me during these months. She was born on a 17th, hence the 17 tracks. I’m sharing this because although it already has songs, I’m sure a lot of people have songs that have helped them through tough times and I want to open this list to others so people can recommend tracks to include here. Feel free to leave a comment here or contact me wherever it's more convenient to give a listen and add to the list. 

So consider this an invitation to listen to this playlist as much as an invitation for you to share songs that have helped you during times of sadness and grief. Songs that have brought light your way and that either express what you feel or give you comfort. Right now it's my list... but the idea is for it to be our list. Who knows? It might help us all out when we least expect it.

Thanks for reading and listening and til the next time we connect though words.

Peace, love, and Loud Love.

Cheers in Heaven

It’s been seven months since I don’t have to worry about my carrier signal to talk to Mom. Seven months where I continue to think about her, look at the phone, miss her voice, yet opt to smile rather than cry (maybe a tear comes through here and there, but hey, I’m Only Human^®). 

I smile because I have the choice to smile when I think of Mom, because if smiling is an option, then why not? I smile because Mom was so abundantly generous with the love she gave me that it helps to see the good in life, even when things go bad, even when the inevitable happens, even when the course of time outlasts a will. I smile because she had such a beautiful smile that she would light up a room and that light still warms me from within. I smile because she wasn’t just Mom to my brothers and me, but because she continues to be our Mother, and continues to be Mother to many people. I smile because I have so many good memories of her and we shared so many good talks. 

I could focus on how easy it is to miss her, how intense the longing is, or I can breathe and smile, knowing I carry her with me. It’s not that I don’t allow myself the space to cry, it’s that I let go of that and then focus on all the good she left me… an ocean of love as it were. I think that’s the perfect analogy because if you think about it, even with all the technological and scientific advances we have, we have no idea what lays down deep in the oceans… that was the love of my Mother. Boundless, reaching to the horizon, and with depths unlike anything else. It’s also perfect because the ocean has waves and each wave is a gift… and if anything is clear, it’s how generous Mama Estrada was in giving. Her time and counsel were sought by many and treasured by those who dropped their pride in favor of listening to someone who took the time to listen to them and speak to them from the heart, only wanting to help. 

I continue to toast to her good health because even if she’s not here in the physical plane, her journey has gotten way more interesting. She was spiritual and was quite in tune with her intuition, calling me up when I was having a bad day and asking what was wrong without me saying one thing. She would often catch me off base like that and then we would chat, because we talked from before I was born to this day. I’ve said before that people wouldn’t come in the room at the hospital when she delivered me because they thought there was someone visiting. And there wasn’t. It was just me and her, chatting, as we always did, as we always will. We did a lot of talking and some of my best memories would be downing a bottle of wine between the two of us and just waffling on. She is probably the reason why I’m so chatty, or at least one of the reasons why I love conversation and having a heart-to-heart with someone. She talked to me not in baby talk or goo-goo ga-gas; she really talked to me, before I was born, when I was a newborn, and throughout my entire life. She knew I could hear her so she talked to me. So I took a cue from her. When she couldn’t respond, I talked to her normally, chatted with her, told her how much I loved her, read to her, and kept her company in the best way I could, basically doing anything I could to make her smile, because I knew she was learning a new way to smile and I was happy to help her in these new steps. Now that’s she’s passed on, I still talk to her normally, tell her jokes, make sure to embellish my stories as best as possible, and chat with her, like always. 

Being a writer, that means I’m a man of words. I find meaning in life through the symbols we use to convey the magic of story, the beauty of an emotion or feeling, or the soul smiles contained in the contact that happens when one message is shared from one human to another. She is with me and she shall always be… and that makes me smile.

I miss Mom. 

I always will. 

But I also love Mom. 

And I’ll also do that always and forever, either because I don’t know any better or because I know best... and she just happened to raise me. 

Salud, Mama. Te amo hoy y siempre. 

Peace, love, and sauvignon blanc.