The Cake Guy

I’ve lived in Atlanta for almost 9 years and people still write to me or mention my Mom’s cakes in conversation. In my life, I’ve had many names: Jorge, George, Jorge Alberto (if I heard that, I knew I’d done it), Cheech, Giogio, Gio and in the last decade JD. Still, there was a recurring name I was given in many a job I had back home: the Cake Guy.

 

Now, although I’ve learned to bake some of Mom’s cakes although to a lesser degree (albeit still respectable), Mom was always the Cake Queen. The amount of birthdays, weddings, sweet sixteens, quinceañeros, parties, gatherings, and all sorts of festivities that included one of Mom’s cakes was easily in the hundreds and possibly in the thousands. Beyond that, I’d often tell Mom to bake a certain amount of cakes and that I would sell them for her in the office, thusly becoming the unofficial (but probably quite official) distributor for Marietta’s Sweets, in addition to my duties as a creative copywriter in advertising and public relations. To keep things on the up and up, I would often talk with a supervisor or someone from HR to make sure everyone was OK with this sweet side hustle, although I mainly got paid in cake and love. Fortunately, I never encountered any “buts”. Quite the contrary actually. They’d thank me and in the same paragraph ask me when I could bring some cakes. Please note, cakes. Plural.

 

So for monthly birthday celebrations, I’d bring, one or two (even up to three) of Mom’s cakes. At some offices, I had a part of my desk dedicated to the storage of cakes. As a promotor, I was always beyond confident in the product because not only did I know the chef, I had the privilege of trying those cakes from batter to bundt, sometimes with only enough time out of the oven to be able to de-mold.

 

On more than one occasion people would ask me if I worried that someone wouldn’t take me seriously at work for selling Mom’s cakes or if I thought it would affect me in any way. I’d reply that I always deliver what I have in the pipeline and that one thing has nothing to do with the other. Besides, it was for Mom and I’d do anything for her, and this especially since it brought Her joy as well as anyone fortunate enough to snag a piece of cake. That’s how I was in four different jobs I had. With either days dedicated to the delivery of cakes or with a cake (or several) available at my desk, ready to go to anyone who had heard stories or wanted to confirm their in-depth flavor theories of the levels of deliciousness contained within those cakes, while I delivered every task I had been assigned. Her heart was always full when she knew her cakes were a hit and that people often fought for a second piece (never violent, but plenty insistent).

 

Nowadays, although I no longer sell cakes, they live on in my stories. Mrs. Fawn is one of my absolute favorite characters to write because she’s inspired by Mom. She appears in several of my books because she’s not bound by any rules, literary or otherwise. She has a universal magic that is welcome in any story she wants to step in and she’s with me in everything. Aside from her pivotal role in the cosmos, Mrs. Fawn doesn’t limit herself to that type of magic. There’s always a slice of lemon cake nearby to offer weary travelers sweet nourishment with a side of smiles.

 

As I mentioned above, I was witness to the entire process to make one of Marietta’s cakes. From the batter, I knew it’d be on point. From how it looked, to how it flowed silkily into the mold and the Elysian aromas that would hug every corner of the house as magic did its thing within the oven. But beyond the recipe, there was something she included in each and every cake of which there was no shortage in her pantry: love.

 

Today would have been 76 and although we toast to you today, the fact is that every time I raise my glass, your name is there apart from having it tattoed in my soul. With my stories, the legacy of her cakes continues in a way, because although I may be many things, part of me shall always be the Cake Guy and Marietta’s youngest.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Peace, love, lemon cake and 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

 

 

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

300 steps

Have you ever taken a step with your eyes closed? How about two? How about a hundred? For some time, I’ve had the tradition of walking with my eyes closed at my local beach back home. I don’t know what compelled me to try it, but I did. 

 

First it was 100 Steps. 

Then it was 200 Steps. 

I wrote about both experiences almost immediately after doing them. This time I took a little longer.

 

It’s Mom’s two-year anniversary and I’ve walked many steps, though never alone. On my last trip to Puerto Rico, I went to the beach and one day had the beach all alone to myself, pretty ideal since walking with your eyes closed isn’t something that looks cool or remotely normal. 

 

Having a beach to yourself is a very special experience and something I’ve been able to enjoy on a couple of occasions, though never when the surf is too big (safety first). It had been a while since I had taken steps with my eyes closed, though I felt the need to do so. At first, it took like four attempts to get any type of rhythm going and at 30 or 40 steps I’d open my eyes out of instinct, reflex, fear or a combination of these. I could have grumbled and been fidgety, but I was neither. I just gave a chuckle, shook it off, and closed my eyes to try again. 

 

When I began to take steps, I immediately spoke to Mom, wishing her well, sending my love. I told her she’d done wonderfully and I thanked her for letting me be with her on her last day on this plane. The conversation was chess-like in the sense that I took ten steps, spoke, then another ten steps and again I spoke.

 

I apologized for the typos on the short story I read to her on her last day, one I had written earlier that same day. I apologized for not having finished the Human Cycle while she was alive. Then I apologized for apologizing so much and chuckled. I took ten more steps and spoke to her, how much I love her. Love. Not loved, because my love for my Mother is never in the past tense. We have that choice, to love in the present and do it with a smile, even if some tears slip away. Tears are OK. And so is moving forwards with them within. 

 

I choose to do those walks at my local surf spot, because Mom always said she wanted part of her to be there. But instead of sprinkling her ashes, I sprinkle her love ten steps at a time and with words from the heart, to ensure proper coverage of the beach. 

 

When you get past 100 steps, it gets easier...for a while. That's until you have second thoughts. You shake a bit because let’s face it, walking with your eyes closed is rarely recommended. That’s when I took a short pause and a deep breath. I steadied myself the best that I could and took ten more steps. I talked to Mom a bit more, then ten more steps. I talked to God and wished my best as well. No requests, no laundry lists of petitions, just a hello, a thank you, a how are you doing, and ten steps in between. God needs conversation as much as prayer, or so I’d like to believe. 

 

Then I reached 200 steps, the most I had done to that point. I had to stand still again to take another steadying breath. I thought of life and how sometimes you need to catch your breath and steady yourself. People are so often compelled to progress and succeed that they don’t give themselves a moment, a break, some slack, or a breather. They just keep pushing. I can’t help but look at those times I’ve taken a moment to catch my breath to see the renewed energy and determination. Then again, that’s me. Some people need to push through pain to hit that second wind or find their stride. And that’s important too. To know yourself and what you need. What lets you do what you want to do. For me, I need that small moment to gather myself so I can then take ten more steps. 

 

Success has been that way for me, a couple of steps at a time. Healing has also been that way for me. Never a cure-all or a single solution. Both take patience, understanding, and a moment to gather myself.

 

When my steps reached the 250s, you’d think I'd be comfortable with what I was doing, but I wasn't. Sometimes your legs shake because you have no idea where you are standing. Think about it. When is the last time you took any amount of steps with your eyes closed? You think of so many things. That you’ll step on a piece of drift wood, a rock, a sea urchin, a jellyfish, and the temptation to stop and open your eyes is most definitely there. Again, I can’t say I recommend walking with your eyes closed, but maybe it was growing up with a grandmother that had advanced glaucoma, but part of my process of healing, of processing my emotions requires me to do this. That’s because you don’t always need to understand the why as long as you can answer the for what. It’s a phrase Mom always told me: no es el por qué, es el para qué/it’s not the why, but the for what in regards to the things we experience. 

 

As I neared the 300 steps mark, I felt relief because I knew I was reaching my goal. Although still tense from having walked so many steps, there was less of an edge because for this instance, I had the benefit of knowing I was near my goal. Sure, I needed to be careful, but I had taken a long look to where I wanted to walk and even with the 40 something missteps I took at the beginning, I had settled down, started again, and progressed.

 

At 290, I became aware that my face felt cool from all the tears that had flowed without me really realizing it. I was extremely present in the moment, I had goose flesh, and also realized how much tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders. I rolled them and moved my neck as well. (Slowly because when you do that with your eyes closed, balance can definitely be a tricky thing to maintain).

I said I love you to Mom and to God and promised I’d keep doing my best. I took the last ten steps and stood there a moment, giving thanks for having been able to do that without tripping, without falling on my face, without stepping on a jellyfish or a sea urchin, or anything else. I don’t know how long it had taken and I didn’t care. All I cared about was that I had taken 300 steps with my eyes closed. For me. For my healing. For meaning in my life.

 

Then I opened my eyes and the brightness was even more overwhelming than when I had done the 200 steps. Colors take a second to settle and everything is the definition of intense. Like everything though, your surroundings settle, you see how much more beach there is to walk, yet you look back and marvel at your progress. You see how your path strays a bit to the left, a bit to the right, where you stepped deeper, where you possibly stumbled, where you realized you might have been walking straight into the ocean, where you took a pause and shuffled sand in place before you were ready to continue, and it all makes sense in some odd way. 

And that’s life, odd, intense, and weird. Sometimes you feel out of control, sometimes you know exactly where you’re going. Sometimes you need to take a moment to catch your breath, and other times you need to push. But no matter how many steps I take or how many times I do this, I realize that when I open my eyes, even with the challenges, even with the pain, even with the struggles, even with the doubts, life is bright and always inviting you to take the steps you need to get to where a smile is waiting. 

 

My thanks for reading, for sharing, and may your steps always lead you to where you have to go. 

 

Peace, love, and maki rolls.

June 15th - A Day to Say Cheers

If you follow me on any social media platform or have known me for some time, you have probably seen me post pictures of beer, wine, cocktails, tea, coffee, cake, or all sorts of things while saying #CheersMamaEstrada in tribute to my mother. This is something I began doing at the suggestion of a good friend and something I’ll continue doing for as long as I live because I believe in the power of positivity and wishing others well and yes, this applies even to those that are no longer with us on this physical plane and even during the highly volatile times we’re going through.  

I’m writing because Monday June 15^th, 2020 will be the one-year anniversary of Mom’s passing and to celebrate her life, I’ll be doing a couple of things. Activities for the day will include calling my brothers and close family friends, the second attempt at baking a tres-leches cake, cracking open a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and having all my books for free. A lot of people wrote me for Mother’s Day concerned that it would be a hard day and although it was hard, it was no harder than Monday through Sunday. That’s because I miss Mom every day. I talk to her. I write to her. And I love having Mrs. Fawn visit my stories and people also enjoy her company. It’s easy to miss her and it’s not something I’ll ever get over because there’s nothing to get over. When you get over something, that means you needed to get past it and leave it in the past. Mom is with me every day and I’m proud to carry her within as my brothers do and as do all the people who loved her so much.

June 15 could be an easy day to make sad, to lower the volume, to talk in a whisper, or be low-key… but that wasn’t Mom. Mom was a sweetheart and magnificent company. She shared her unique light and love and I do my best to carry my reflection of her love in the words I share, the songs I write, the silly things I post, and the jokes I crack. June 15 is a day to celebrate the magnificent life of a magnificent woman who loved freely and beautifully. One of her greatest wishes was that more people would read my books, so here’s your chance to help a boy make his Mother proud. Download my books, tell your friends, and toast to your angels as well. If you can share online with a #CheersMamaEstrada I’d appreciate it more than you know or if you want to post a pic of a glass of wine, sangria, margaritas, tea, water, coffee, or your preferred beverage because on more than one occasion, those posts lifted her spirits and helped her in rough days. She would always chuckle knowing people might be getting a buzz in her name and deep within me, I know she still enjoys it. If you have a family member or friend you want to toast to, go for it. If you have a tear, shed it, though also smile for the gift of having those special people in your life.

 

I’ve talked about emotional alchemy before, which is basically using what we feel and channeling that energy to create. June 15^th is Mom’s first anniversary and I will do everything to make it a joyous occasion, though I always welcome company. Cheers to you and to your loved ones and here’s to our angels, may we always make them smile come rain or shine. 

Peace, love, and #CheersMamaEstrada

The beauty of tradition

Some traditions come and go with the years, but others stay for life… and beyond. Since 2014, I’ve made it part of my traditions to publish something in honor of Mom and all the other mothers in this world on Mother’s Day. It’s a tradition that’s important to me because she is so important to me. Notice how I wrote is and not was, for Mama Estrada shall always be present within me.

If you know me, you know I carry my Mom with me every day. Beyond the memory, on a genetic level she lives on through her three sons and four grandsons. I talk to her often though today is the first time I wrote a letter to her. Words I don’t feel the need to share but did feel the need to write. She loved getting letters from me and I always loved writing them. You see, I may have flaws, but when it comes to words, it seems I’m pretty good at using them to either tell stories, capture an emotion, or say I love you. I try to be a man of words and of my word and although she never asked me to, I wanted to publish something on Mother’s Day for as long as I live, because it’s important to me.

From last year, I’ve had a hard time finishing projects because life has been life and it’s been a challenge to focus and concentrate. It’s never been and shall never be because of a lack of will or desire. I’ve pushed forward several books, collections, and plenty will be coming along during the year, because, why not? Still, for 2020 and a year that has definitely turned out to be intense, I wanted to release all of my English poetry in one collection as my first release for the year.

No ad campaign. No mega hoopla. No teaser camphttps://www.amazon.com/Recollection-First-Wave-JD-Estrada-ebook/dp/B088DMQ8J3/aign. Just my English poetry in one collection as a promise of more to come. More poetry, more projects, more novels, more creativity, more bananas, more socks, more smiles.

Y vendrá más en español. Paciencia mi gente que soy Sólo Humano ;)

Recollection includes all my published poetry including what appears in Twenty Veinte and what appears at the end of the Daydreams on the Sherbet Shore. It includes all my sides as a poet as an invitation to you to give poetry a chance. To show that poetry has many sides as do we. I’m also releasing it as an invitation to you to pick up a pen, pencil, or keyboard and write. Poetry has been extremely powerful in my life and has helped me heal in ways that although I could describe wouldn’t do it justice.

You’ll notice that the cover for Recollection says first wave, because Mother Ocean also means a lot to me and has taught me a lot about life and myself in almost 40 years on this planet. When you surf, waves often come in sets and depending on the beach, the weather, the swell, and all sorts of conditions, it could be a set of two, three, four, five, or lord knows how many waves. I also wanted that subtitle because ripples can and do reverberate around the world and when I decide to share something, I want my ripple to hold a smile, kindness, empathy, laughter, and hopefully something that inspires someone to do good just for the sake of doing good and to enjoy just for the sake of enjoying.

Life is as complex as it is simple. The variables are endless; the challenges sometimes too many to count; but we don’t need scientific testing, divine intervention, or overwhelming evidence to know when something makes us happy. It just does. Writing makes me happy and it has for the longest time… and part of me wants you to feel that joy that springs from any of your soul wells, because there is poetry in you. You just need to let it out.

Peace, love, and sauvignon blanc

El hijo de Marietta

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.

31 Day Salute - #CheersMamaEstrada

 

Earlier in the year when Mom was dealing with her health issues, a former Puerto Rico Governor passed away and the country had 30 days of observance. In her eternal cheek, she said that she wanted 31 when she passed away. We celebrated her between June and July but didn’t really make it official.

This will be my first birthday without Mom and August has 31 days in it, so why not celebrate her the entire month as well as my birthday? First off, the artwork you see here was commissioned by one of my best friends and script writer/developer Andrew Horng. It’s a beautiful gift and I think the colors and artwork capture a good chunk of Mom’s essence. She was a bright light in the lives of many and she continues to shine on.

This month I’ll be doing several things in her name, including writing, music, videos, and other stuff, because why not? The #CheersMamaEstrada posts and gallery shall continue although a little more frequent this month, rather than the scheduled weekend posts I’m actually doing.

To all the beautiful friends and family who have reached out and sent love: thank you is much to brief a way to express the gratitude we feel. Regardless of the challenges though, we continue to share her light and cheer and that shall always be the case.

Stay tuned here and on my social media including facebook, YouTube, and Instagram for more of the celebration.

Peace, love, and #CheersMamaEstrada

Cheers 4 Life

When you lose someone you love, finding your bearings is the first step and depending on who they were and what they meant to you, it’ll be different every time. Although I already wrote about Mom, I did it in Spanish and since I live my life bilingually, I need to process things in both languages, so here’s another post. In addition, although there were those lucky enough to know Mom in real life, others got to know her through me and my writing. So part of me feels like she’d like me to write to those people who knew her from my stories.

I’m also writing this because my blog has always been a platform to try and have a positive impact. A lot of what I write comes from what I need to process in my life and this most certainly is something I’m processing and shall continue to do so. I don’t know if reading this will help someone else, or maybe it’ll just help me sort feelings and thoughts via words, as is the case usually. Regardless, the words are written with kindness and love, which is always a worthy way to start any endeavor.

It’s been an odd two weeks where I catch myself picking up the phone with no one to call. It took a Category 5 hurricane to bring down communications in Puerto Rico, a cruise trip where there was no cell reception, health complications, and now Mom having passed away to not talk with her on the phone every day. It’s not like her passing hasn’t sunk in, but so much about love can seem like muscle memory and reflexes. So now the challenge is to find new ways to love and express and communicate my love for her, which is something that takes a little getting used to. Rather than big things, I find myself remembering her in the most random things and although it does make me tear up a bit, I still catch myself smiling through tears, because even now she can make me smile. Like I said, muscle memory.
 

Some people deal with the bereavement process by talking to their loved ones and I count myself in that bunch. So much of what I shared with Mom were conversations. Long, winding, meandering, random conversations about everything and nothing. There were no taboos and we always spoke honestly and like lifelong friends. When I was about to come into this world, her doctor told her she had to hold on for a while, because another mother was in labor, had placenta praevia, and if they didn’t see to the woman, her and the baby could die. So for about 40-50 minutes, we “stood there,” minding our own business and I suspect she talked to me and asked kindly to sit tight and just give her a couple of minutes. So even before my entrance to this world we were talking and she was thinking of other people before herself. The other baby was delivered, happy and healthy, and then at some time past 6 PM, I was born. During those first few nights, nurses wouldn’t come into the room, because they heard her talking and thought she had someone visiting. She didn’t. It was just me. And we were just talking.

So I see no point in stopping a good thing we had going for so long.

I am all about traditions and sticking to the ones that enrich our lives; so in my morning and afternoon commutes, I talk to Mom. One of the biggest differences is that I don’t have to worry about dropped signals or low battery, so those are some pluses.

A couple of days ago, someone said something on the lines of: “Well, this is the last #CheersMamaEstrada.” I gave a little smile when I read that because last I checked, I’m still breathing, she still lives within me, and we still have positive vibrations to share with the world. I have a gallery on Facebook called #CheersMamaEstrada (Click for the link) and I will continue posting to it during weekends, because she was too big to be handled in just one day or one tribute.

As for her journey, she definitely faced countless challenges. However, time and time again I was fortunate enough to witness some of the best things humanity has to offer, and not just from her determination. Sure there were scary moments, frustrating moments, and sad moments, but the moments of light, where people shared their best, unconditionally and selflessly, were quite a few as well. Doctors who didn’t have to visit yet came by every day to check up on her, nurses who came from other offices because they had the gentle hands that didn’t leave her bruised when taking blood samples, caregivers who in so many ways cared for her SO much more than just a patient, family members who came by and visited after years of being out of touch and chatted with her as if they hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks, and people the world around who would toast to her good health. Seriously, she loved the thought of people getting a buzz in her name. She always welcomed and appreciated thoughts and prayers, but she shall always be a being of smiles, and to know that someone would smile while thinking about her made her day each every single time. Even better if it was with their beverage of choice. So again, why stop a good thing?
 

As one of her three sons, I was also able to witness true greatness in the love we share as brothers for the same woman. What needed to be done got done. Period. It was never a problem. It was never an issue. It was our duty and our shared honor to show her pure love, selfless love… the type of love she taught us and raised us with and the type of love we have gotten from our wives, our families, and our friends. Where everyone was hurting but chose to smile, to toast to life and joy and love, and to keep going forwards.

Going back to May, I actually did go to the Puerto Rico Comic Con, because I knew Mom would insist and I wanted to bring her some happy news about my adventures. I was alternating between being at the hospital and being at the Convention. Among the many amazing things I got to see first hand, it was that if anyone had any doubt about why they call my wife the Captain, it got dispelled handily. She handled the booth and countless other situations being so much more than just a Captain that she might get a promotion in Book 3. She also gave me my space and endless love and patience to express and feel whatever I had to feel. In short, she was essential in me being able to give my best to my Mom, my brothers, and our family. Then at the convention, everyone had a kind word to say. Both of our booth neighbors and several other people offered help and support and were truly wonderful in so many ways. Seriously, there were so many bright moments shared by people and kindness all around, with nothing but positive vibes. And I took all of that to Mom when I went to the hospital and every time I toast in her name.

So we shall continue to toast to her and share good vibes for those who need them. Because if we have received kindness, love, and support, the right thing to do is to pay it forwards. On my part, if you have someone you’d like to toast to their health, let me know and we’ll toast to them as well, because we’re all in this together. I shall also pair #Humans4Humans Efforts with #CheersMamaEstrada because I want good deeds to carry her name forward as well and because if I say we have to do our best to give our best, this is the perfect opportunity to show that regardless of what we live through, we can help others and have a positive impact.
 

Lastly, a little bit for those who have read or will read my work. You don’t know Mom as Mama, Tata, Marietta, or Doña María… but you will know her as Mrs. Fawn. There are several people I include in my works and Mom is one of them. If you haven’t read the Human Cycle series or Given to Fly, I won’t offer spoilers, though just know that her role is as essential as it was in my life and she shall always appear as Mrs. Fawn, with the exception of one story to be included in a future collection that will be her as I saw her. Mom was definitely consistent in who and how she was as a human, and the same will go for Mrs. Fawn. I wrote her with kindness, with love, with wisdom, and with lemon cake… because that’s my Mom and that’s how I will always see her.

My thanks for reading, for caring, and for joining me for a toast or four.

Peace, love, and #CheersMamaEstrada