At my titi’s funeral mass on Monday I was chosen to do the readings porque yes I am a good reader/speaker pero tambien porque I would be the one to not break down, the one to stand in front of the coffin holding my madrina and read without so much as a quiver in my strong voice.

Si, siempre la fuerte, siempre the one to aguantar, to hold pero ya tengo que release and I have decided that tonite will be the noche.

Two deaths of strong influential women in my life within a 40 day period, the same time as Catholic lent, the time of sacrifice and I have sacrificed much. Two women who were always proud of me for my work, my words and how I melded the two together and how through words told mot just my stories but their stories and the stories of so many mujeres.

And the third loss, a loss I initiated, no se why that one seems to hurt the most. Quizas porque la vida sigue en el. Quias porque merezco este dolor since I caused pain to others through my choices. Quizas porue la vida sin mi marcha pa’lante. Quizas porque I wasn’t chosen.

Por eso esta nocho suelto todo. Toda la pena y dolor and regret me lloro y vomito para empezar de cero mañana.

It’s funny. When the new year started, I was on the phone with someone, talking about how hopeful I was for the new year, pero asi no paso. It’s been one loss after another.

I want to start the new year over. Not tonite though. Esta noche tengo mi musica, mi vino, mis cigarilllos y mis penas so that mañana I can start over pero tonite la musica seria nuestra conversacion.


  1. No te conosco, pero leo tus palabras siempre, y espero que esta noche, la noche y la musica y el vino y los cigarillos pueden cargar un poco de tus penas, y que ofrecen un poco de alivio.

  2. mujer, sista, dada, friend…

    i hope that this words wrap around your heart.
    i pray for you…

    may you know love
    may you know peace
    may you know peace of mind
    may you be safe

    mbuya nehanda

    ‘ when i was born and saw the light
    i was no stranger in the world
    something inescapable
    shapeless and without words
    appeared in the form of my mother
    so when i die
    the same unknown will appear again
    as ever known to me
    and because i love this life
    i know i shall love death as well
    the child cries out when
    from the right breast
    the mother takes it away
    in the next moment
    to find in the left one
    its consolatiom

    Rabindranath Tagore from Gitanjali

  3. Mamita,
    I am so sorry for your loss.
    No words can make you feel better and healing only comes in time.

    My sweet mother died last January. A year earlier, my brother died. At his funeral, my mama who had lost her normal, every day mind six months earlier, lashed out at my sisters and me. She was tired of not being able to go to the bathroom by herself and being treated as a 3 year old. In one way my mama knew all that was going on, but 10 seconds later, she was peeing on herself and spitting up. That is what happens in old age when you reach 90 years old. My mother was the strongest woman in the world. She made us strong, yet she was so frail at the end.

    As I get older every day and as I forget a thing or two, I wonder about life. Maybe it isn’t so much about us all losing our minds at the end. Instead, we should not mourn for their last days but rejoice in the contributions and gifts they gave to us over their entire lifetimes.

    God Bless all of our Mamas, Tias and ancestors and each other.


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