I’ve been at this job now for only two months and the feedback from my superiors is positive. I love my job, enjoy the people I work with and believe in our organization’s mission wholeheartedly. The juxtaposition of my professional and personal life is schizophrenic at best.
As a stay-at-home mom I often felt overworked, overwhelmed, drained, unappreciated and tired. I would lay down my life for my children and my husband could care less if the house is a mess, we are eating leftovers (again) and I have book club that night. Still, there were times I longed for an annual performance review from the good old days in the corporate world. I had my goals and either met or exceeded expectations, got a raise, a pat on the back and feedback on how to continue to grow. If someone were to ask my children and husband today about their mom’s and wife’s job performance I wonder what they’d say, because I still works here- on a compressed schedule. Perhaps they would begin their assessment with: bad tempered, cries all the time, and not much fun to be around. Drill sergeant in the morning to get to school and work on time, post-menopausal shrew at dinner at bedtime. Grief isn’t pretty, and it does not bring out the best in me. I frequently pray to God that He keeps His arm around my shoulder and His hand over my mouth.
My mom will transfer to hospice tomorrow. As sad as that is I know she will be well cared for. Her pain will finally be under control and her mental suffering will stop. When the time comes, her death will hopefully be a peaceful one. I have a soft spot for hospice workers and nurses. It was a hospice nurse who took me under her wing after Eddie died and taught me how to grieve. She took away my fear of death and taught me compassion. Little did I know that what Sheila taught me would help eleven years down the road, but I thank God for ensuring that our paths crossed.
The children are doing assignments for All Saints’ Day and we gathered around the kitchen table to finish them tonight. Jacob had to make a list of loved ones who have passed. Our cat, Irulan, topped his list. Grace had to pick a saint from a list and write a few sentences about his/her life. She chose Teresa of Avila, after whom my mom was named. We learned today that among other things, Teresa of Avila is the patron saint of the sick and of people in need of Grace. Not only that, but one of my favorite prayers which hangs on my office wall, was penned by her. Holy crap!
On the way home I listened to Dr. Maya Angelou speaking on her radio show. Today she said that courage is the most important of all the virtues; as without courage one cannot consistently practice charity, faith, prudence, hope, and justice. How true… Dad and I have faltered at times but because we are faithful to my mom we are finding the courage to follow through with prudence and charity. We are faithful that she will go Home to our Lord. Our world will never be the same but we are better people for having her in our hearts. Nothing is left unsaid between us. She knows me best- the good, the bad and the ugly and nevertheless loves me unconditionally. I am one lucky girl. Dad has a new set of health challenges to face and I will be steadfast at his side for the next leg of the race.
Our family lore is full of stories of ordinary people who pushed through harsh circumstances. My maternal grandmother, America Ventura, left Cuba after being widowed and took my dad to New York. She wanted a better life for her son and despite coming from a charmed upbringing and a marriage to a diplomat she took a job at the Waldorf Astoria as a chamber maid. When she died a few years later, it was her sister and my dad’s Godmother, who took the helm. She supported his studies and provided the love and inspiration he needed to live a good life. Orphaned in his teens, my father finished high school, joined the Army and went to college on the GI Bill. Self-made, through and through, but with the backing of extraordinary women.
My mom was the second youngest of 6 children. My grandmother was widowed when mom was only two years old. She gave birth to her youngest on the afternoon of the day she buried her husband. My mom was raised part of her early childhood by an aunt as her mom could not handle all six children and had to farm some out to family. When Castro started making noise in ’59 my mom heard him speak, got suspicious and shortly thereafter migrated to Puerto Rico with a cousin for whom she worked as a book keeper. Prior to that she worked and put herself through school, in Cuba, in the 1950’s. As she was preparing to leave her country of origin, she bought her mom a Frigidaire and hid her small savings underneath the fabric of her coat’s covered buttons and the hem of her skirts. My, sweet little mom sure has a big pair of brass balls. She boarded her first flight alone and scared while looking forth for a better life.
I have many early memories of relatives, friends of relatives, and friends of friends passing through our home in Mexico on their way to freedom from Cuba. My mom and dad are directly responsible for a whole underground railroad of people who are now living in liberty because of my mother’s tireless efforts.
As best as I can figure, I have got to find the way to bring the professional home and clean up after myself. The same woman who gets the accolades at work HAS to do the work at home. I come from a strong group of people and they’ve taught me well how to push through life’s tough times without developing a hardened heart.
Jacob shared his two favorite stuffed owls with me last night. He said they’d keep me company so I wouldn’t be so sad. Grace drew me a picture of a daffodil. The beautiful spring flower that reminds us that life begins anew. My children have their grandma’s heart. They have her kindness. They have her love. Like her, they intuitively know how to reach the broken pieces of my heart.
I hope to one day live up to my parents' example. They are simply among the most courageous and kind people. I am indeed blessed to be their child.
St. Teresa of Avila’s Prayer
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let His presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
