My dear Tía (Aunt) Nora passed away in the early hours of this morning.
It had become so difficult for her in the end. She was always so strong, so sweet, so dynamic, and I will remember her always in this way, and not in the way of the end, of how Lewy body dementia had its hard, hurtful way. She was kindly direct and wisely driven, traveling the world and making her own way, prioritizing family, friends and relationships with the beautiful emphasis Latin culture encourages, and speaking her mind through her heart. I want to honor her in my being even more loving, even more alive, and even more unforgiving in claiming life.
I saw her one last time in March in Puerto Rico. She had been bedridden for some time, flighting in and out of lucidity. I teared up talking with my boyfriend afterward, remembering how the times before we’d done so much together. Gone to the beach with our Tommy Bahama beach chairs, where she always told me not to sit under a palm tree for fear of a falling coco; walked at dusk, loop after loop around the park as night descended and the coquís called out through the air. How could this be, now, how she was? “That’s why we have memories,” he said, hugging me. “To remember the happy times we shared.”
That’s why we have memories. And I have thought of that since, as I am making them, and smiled. And I think of it now, as a I take out the little boxes of memories wrapped up with bows, all those memories I have with my dear Tía Nora.
Que descanses en paz, mi querida Tía Nora