Rest In Peace?

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Today’s is my lovely Mama’s birthday may she RIP.

I’m known to post regularly about Mama: random memories, how many months it’s been since she’s left us (44 months in a few days), pictures that I find around the house, pictures of her table that we update with each holiday, her tradition of giving treat bags to her friends (which, by the way, I’ve passed two holidays because my life got crazy-busy, yes, I feel guilty) and more.

More than once, I’ve had folks tell me that I should let her go, that I should let my mother rest in peace, that I have separation anxiety issues.

Having gone through the trauma of losing my mother, I’ve realized a few things:

  1.  Everyone grieves differently.
  2.  Everyone honors their loved ones in their own way.
  3.  The greatest gift that Margaret gave us, her familia, was sitting us down and telling us how she intended to live out her life, that she loved us and knew that we loved her, and that she knew that we would always be together.

Mama was right.  When she was gone, we would have each other to hold on to, we would know that we were loved, and we would know that she was going to be happy in her eternal home.

So the fact that I celebrate my mother constantly does not necessarily mean that I want time to stop, that I want her back, that I want things to stay as they always have, that I’ve not accepted her departure.  Wrong.  Margaret told us she would be alright, that she was ready to leave, that she would be happy.  There is no way that I would want Mama to be sad or suffering here on earth when she was clearly ready to go HOME.

It took me much longer than my siblings to accept this harsh truth when Mama first told us what was what.  However,  I became so convinced that Mama was right as we took care of her those final weeks:  no food, no water, no medicine and she didn’t look weak or emaciated or sad or suffering.  When it was time, it was time.

When she was with us, we Torres5 would always marvel about the crazy positive reaction would be on social media to anything we posted about Margaret, she would be a little shy when we’d tell her or read folks’ birthday wishes or comments to this or that post, but then you would see her famous little quiet smile.  Mama used to always tell me, “omg, this isn’t a competition!” to which I’d answer, “Of course it isn’t, you always win!”

Happy Birthday Mama/Mother/Mom/Negra/Prieta/Marga!

 

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The Nameless Lady

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My brother is so much like Mama.  He regularly performs random acts of kindness, buying food for hungry folks, sitting and talking with the homeless, always, always thinking of others.   I always say that I’m going to try to be like that and, this past weekend, I feel as if I came close.

I was out delivering Mama’s Treat Bags.  We make them every holiday to give out to her doctor’s office and her friends at DaVita Dialysis, she did this in life and wanted us to carry on the tradition.

On this particular morning, I was visiting the dialysis folks and handed one of the bags to a woman whom I’d never seen before.  I was struck by the way she grabbed for my hand to thank me – just like Mama used to grab my hand.   I didn’t even ask her name.   She told me that she had been in dialysis for a few weeks now and, as she grabbed my hand, she asks me, “was your Mom scared when she would come here at first?”

I started to tell this lady how Mama made the deal with us when it was time for her to do dialysis:  that “if I have to go through this, so do all of you“, and for the first few months, one of us stayed right there with her the entire time she went through her treatment.   I told her that Mama was very afraid at first and, while she never totally liked her time at dialysis, she was able to somewhat embrace her situation…until she decided that enough was enough.

The woman seemed to totally relate to what I was saying and she started crying quietly.   I held her hand for a few minutes more and had the feeling that Mama was present there, helping to comfort this woman.   I realized that, with every time I take out Mama’s treat bags, that I learn more about her journey, how, in many ways, she did this treatment for us more than for herself, how strong-willed she was, how else to explain the motivation it took for her to get up every day and soldier on, that my mother had so much faith, faith that it was all part of His plan.   Also, I gain more admiration for my mother:  as bad as she was feeling some days, she always wanted to make folks feel better, to not feel so alone in the world.

This nameless lady put me and my ego in check QUICK.  She’s on a life-changing journey, and not an easy one.  I felt happy that I made her feel better for those few minutes and she was able to not feel so afraid and alone.  Who knows what her life is like?  Who is there to make sure she eats before (or after) treatments?  Does she drive to the treatments?  Is her family supporting her?  I have no clue.  All I know is that I could sense that this woman was strong, strong enough to admit that she was afraid yet still there trying to get better.

I hope that I can see her next time I’m there.  I’ll have to ask her what her name is.

Maybe I’ll show her this story.

 

 

The Breeze Through Mama’s Window

 

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It’s Sunday afternoon, between one and two in the afternoon, and, as I sat down to eat my lunch, I looked down at my plate, glanced at the TV, and looked out of the window, I had to smile, then I had to laugh.

I am eating mac and cheese, watching some movie on Turner Classic Movies, and enjoying the breeze from the window on this hot day. Why is this funny, you ask?

This is so something Mama would do.

This is Mama’s time of day.

This could almost be her sitting here eating her favorite macaroni and cheese, watching one of her classic movies and looking out of her window. As I sit here, I can hear myself asking her, “Mama, what do you feel like eating?” if she didn’t know, I would read off a list of her favorites…fruit and cottage cheese, tostadas, mac and cheese, salad…and 9 times out of 10, it was mac and cheese.

The breeze from Mama’s window is the BEST in all of the house. I remember, many times, how Mama would give a little sigh when we would open her window as she sat in her chair or was in her bed. At first, I was completely mortified that a hospital bed would take residence in the living room – especially when Mama had a perfectly good bedroom. Now I get it, the great breeze and being in the living room allowed Mama to keep calm and cool, to stay connected in her part of the world, and to live life with all of us instead of being holed up in a room in the back, in the back where the window was higher up and with no breeze.

This was the time of day when Mama would really rest.  It was usually quieter, and once I opened all of the windows in the house, the breeze would kick in, and she could relax and sleep knowing that one of us was in the house.  Even now, when I notice Mama’s time of day, I try to keep things quiet JUST in case she wants to stop by and visit us.

The day the folks came to take her bed away, the big sister in me kicked in when I saw my siblings faces filled with sadness. I made them bring in a table that minute so that I could set up a table with Mama’s pictures and things. We still have that table all of these months later, the table is right against Mama’s window and my sister changes it and blings it up throughout the year. Mama’s chair is in the exact spot where her bed was right next to her nightstand. If you sit in this chair facing the window, it’s all about “aaaaah” the minute that breeze hits your face.

As a family, we did everything for our mother and, for the most part, this family has decided to mourn “happy” – we miss our mother so much and we like her right there in the mix with us as we go about our lives.   It is very comforting knowing that, in some way, she is still in her favorite spot of her house.   Maybe the breeze is her way of stopping in to say hi to us.

At least I like to think so.

Man of My Nightmares, Mother of My Dreams

#52essays2017

I was sitting down to dinner with one of my roommates when the doorbell rings. My roommate gets up to answer and it is our landlord, a very nice East Indian gentleman. I had just put a spoonful of papas into my mouth and tried to chew it up really fast before going to the door. “How are you Carmen?” he says, “Fine, what’s up?”, “Would you mind coming with me to the office please”? He didn’t seem that worried and, as the offices were really close to the apartment, we didn’t have much time to talk.

As I walk into the office, he asks me to follow him into the back room. My heart fell to the floor and I was in disbelief with what I saw.  I couldn’t believe that he had done this again, always trying to find me, always showing up at random places.  There he was, tied up like an animal, wearing a red and black checked shirt, one of those flannel ones, as it was cold outside. His head was turned so all I saw, at first, was his black hair. Then he turns around, face full of anger and rage, and then I hear his voice, “get me the f#$% outta here! tell this motherf#$%^&* to let me go!” In desperation, I was screaming, “OMG whyyyyy do you keep doing this!”. My landlord asks me if I want to call the authorities and then tells me that he was going to give this guy enough money to get to Elk Grove (?) and for me not to worry. All the while it is scream and cuss-out city with this man.  All I kept thinking was ‘just get him out of here and out of my life!’

So like a sonsatontapendeja, I let my landlord handle the situation thinking “all is good, he’ll be out of here” and actually go back to my dinner. The doorbell then rings again, and there he is, freed from the ropes that held him a few minutes earlier, and he is not screaming this time.  He quietly informs me that, “This is it.  Either you come back to me or I take matters into my own hands”  I remember being stunned, stunned that he actually showed up at my house again, scared of what he was going to do,  angry that I didn’t just call the police,  wondering where my phone was, do I scream? or not?  In the next second, he puts the gun to his face, pulls the trigger, and blows his face off, blood everywhere.

I woke up crying and completely freakiada that night.  I had been having nightmares for well over a week, every night, every time I woke up and fell back asleep, there would be another graphic, violent way that this person would kill himself.  I was getting worried about these nightmares and afraid to go to sleep.   I called the Crisis Center and, luckily, was able to set up time to speak with someone about my troubled and disruptive nightmares.   Turns out they were flashbacks of very negative, drama-filled, bitter times of my life when I did not yet have a handle on my situation.  I felt lucky that these flashbacks didn’t really occur when I was driving or in an important meeting or anything and was able to get some valuable exercises for working through flashbacks/PTSD and to remind myself of how far I have come from those days of madness.

So, guess what I dreamt last night?

I was at the Ranch in our kitchen.  We were all home as I could hear people talking in the other room and the TV was on a low volume.  I was taking out my small red crock pot  so that I could make beans like usual, and she says to me, “I don’t know about the beans in that crock pot…”  Como si nada, I respond, “you’ve never even tasted anything made in this pot,  how would you know?” ” I just know so make the beans on the stove”  Muttering, I start to prepare beans as she tells me to do so.    On the counter, I see a bunch of vegetables thrown all about and I’m like, “what is all THAT for?”, “I thought that I would make some soup for your Dad too so help me cut the vegetables”.  At first, I almost rolled my eyes, and then, in the middle of the dream, I get the knife to cut up the vegetables and smile at her and my mouth drops open. “Mama!!!!!! I’m not having a nightmare! And you’re HERE!”   There she was, Margaret Torres, looking beautiful, w a l k i n g, no cane or wheelchair in sight, she had a dress on and I could hear the click of her heels.    Mama tells me, “I’m always here, you know that;  you should trust more and stop worrying, I’m always here” and then I woke up!

It was the first night that I slept well in days, and, as it turned out, Mama still WORKS it for us, of this I am 100% convinced.   I need no man in my dreams, I do, however, need to see my mother sometimes.  The dream was so real.  I haven’t felt this comforted since my mother passed away in 2014.   That I was able to have a conversation with her was so great.   Thanks Mama!  MargaretLivesInMe.

#52essays2017

What? QueQUE? My story of Awe #52essays2017

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#52essays2017

AWE:  a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.  Synonyms of AWE:  filled with wonder, wonderstruck, awestruck, amazed, astonished, lost for words, reverential

Another Friday Night.  I’m sitting in major traffic trying to get home.  I’m listening to the radio and the host is talking about “Awe” and the listeners are calling in with their stories.  As I sat in my Jeep surrounded by cars on every side on the roadway, I started thinking about times when I was awestruck, when something completely stopped me in my tracks, when I was stunned into silence, when I was certain that it could only have been God behind it.

Back in the day, I was going out with someone whom I was totally crazy about, I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.  I just couldn’t believe that my parents did not like this person.  Oh, they had reason to feel the way they did, I accept that.  I was the one who was blind in love, I was the one who was going to change their mind, I was the one to change a negative into a positive, things would work out in my favor.

Well, things did not work out in my favor.  After too many nights of having to deal his drama with alcohol and viejas, I decided that I needed to get out of this mess and I left him.   I had estranged myself from my family where he was concerned, and so I really didn’t know who I could talk to about how sad and devastated I was.  I thought that no one would understand me and that they would just be glad that I had come to my senses.  I was not in any mood to be judged, I just wanted understanding.  I kicked myself for living a double life and for keeping things from my family and friends.  So now I had this intense drama going on in my head and I started beating myself up MORE for being with this person than GIVING MYSELF PROPS for being smart enough to walk away from a bad situation.  So, as often happens when one is overwhelmed and battling every kind of emotion, I became very depressed.  I also thought that, “there’s no way that anyone knows how I’m feeling because I haven’t told anyone anything.”  Yeah, right.

Mama knew.

My mother had always been pretty religious, very Catholic.  She would always say things like ‘Let Go And Let God‘ and told us to “pray about it” and “believe” and things like that.  I’d sit there rolling my eyes saying, “ay Mom” and things like that.  But Margaret, always persistent, never gave up and, one day, she tells me that there was a Healing Mass coming up and that we should go,  Healing Masses are done all of the time in Catholic churches, it’s a time where you can receive a great amount of prayer for whatever illness or sadness you are going through.  I’m like “yeah, yeah” rolling my eyes and thinking, “she’ll forget about this”.  Well, forget she did not, and the day came for the Healing Mass.

I remember going into the Mass, still with some of my attitude on, thinking about “what will this do for me?“.  At one point during the Mass, there came a point where I had to go up to the altar where there were people standing in a circle who would pray for whatever I asked them to pray for.  I went up to the circle and told them how sad I was because of a breakup and they all started to pray over me.   I went back to my seat, a little confused and thinking about how this was going to help me because I felt the same as I did before.

After everyone else had gone up to be prayed over, we had to stand up for some reason.  As the priest was speaking, don’t ask me what he was saying, I put my hands on the pew in front of me.  As I stood there, I started to feel my body moving, like something was trying to get out.  I closed my eyes and, to my astonishment, I started to feel like my body was actually rising up, that I was starting to levitate, and I remember holding on to that pew for dear life, because I was sure that I was going to start flying.  I started crying because I didn’t really understand what was happening and because I didn’t know how to fly.

Once I realized that I was fighting this too much, I figured I would relax and let go – after all, I was in a church, what harm could come to me there?   As I relaxed my hold on the pew and just surrendered to the feeling of levitation, I started to feel something making its way out of my body, and making its way in color, I saw a dark gray film rising before my eyes and, as I looked up, it was moving up as well!  After seeing this, I sat down and tried to get myself together.  I was completely floored, exhausted, and at peace.  I remember looking over at Mama and, as we locked eyes, and we both knew that I had come through the other end.  I never knew if she ever saw what I had felt and seen just a few minutes earlier but I know that she understood that something profound had happened.  Now that I look back, how cool is it that I was able to share this with my mother?  Just like God, she never left me ever, I was not all alone.

I hadn’t really thought too much about that experience in many years.   In fact, as I listened to the radio on that Friday night, as others spoke about AWE, I almost hesitated as I dialed the phone number to tell MY story of Awe.  I was shocked that the phone actually rang and was answered by a call screener.  I would be telling my story to the world in a few minutes!   As I told my story of Awe on-air, I realized that AWE moments should not be forgotten, that reaching back to this moment in my life might have helped me to see the roadblocks, stop signs, signals that would cross my path in the future.  I cannot explain, to this day, why God chose that precise moment to personally bless me with peace and love.  I have learned that it’s important to talk (or write about)  about these wonder-filled moments to help me/us reflect on as heal and move forward from life’s disappointments, sad or bad times.

What is your moment of AWE?  Embrace, heal, and learn from this moment.

#52essays2017

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Your Mama Says “Hi” #52essays2017


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As I got home tonight from work, Dad told me that he went to see Mama at the cemetery. He always says “Your Mama Says Hi”. I have been missing “Señora” big time today.  It’s cold, it’s dark, and I’m just getting over flu/bronchitis and sometimes all you want is your mama to make it all better. That’s it, that’s all I wanted today.  I love it when he tells us that ‘your Mama says hi’ like as if she’s going to be home in a little while or something.

I don’t know what it was about being near Mama, I felt safe, she wasn’t the ‘huggy huggy’ type and I didn’t feel offended because I think that she may have wanted to be more cariñosa with us but she was embarrassed, and maybe she thought that she didn’t know how to be more physically affectionate, who knows.  A lot of ladies from her generation were the same way.   I learned how to live with this but I just always k n e w that my mother loved me because she felt things so deeply. I could always sense when Mama was sad or hurt; maybe because I am the same way, my feelings run veeeery deep.  However, Mama always connected really well through writing, thank God. I have so many loving notes and letters from her. I treasure them all but I really love the stuff she’d write after she had her stroke, when she had to start from zero and learn to write with her left hand (as the right one was paralyzed), where a small note would take her hours to write, when she was as close to her inner chingona as possible, when she had decided that, by holding things in, she had a hand in her stroke changing her life forever. From that moment on, she always always always told us to never keep things in, so that we wouldn’t end up like her – in a wheelchair, walking with a cane, no longer able to drive or move about carefree.

Many many times she’d tell me to “calm down, don’t be so emotional, stop crying‘, and in the next breath, tell me that she was exactly the same way at my age.   Someone, somewhere along Mama’s life, must have told her to keep things inside, that it wasn’t cool to cry and carry on.  Maybe Mama’s generation were afraid of emotion, afraid of losing control, afraid of not being able to come back from an emotional outburst.  I didn’t, and still don’t, understand how one can hold in every single feeling, it would make me physically sick to hold so much in. I’ve learned thru life (and shots of therapy) that letting go and losing it all is a great way to get yourself back on track.  I would give anything for Mama and those of her generation to have believed this, they would have been happier and more fulfilled I think.   I always try to be affectionate with our #TorresBabies, no matter the age, breaking that cycle I guess.

Mama’s presence was always enough to calm me.  If she looked calm, I would stop freaking out about this or that.  If I called her and her voice sounded strong and happy, I knew that it was a good day.  Wheelchair or not, paralyzed or not, if I needed an attitude adjustment, advice, or someone to listen to me go on and on and on, Mama was down for it.  Today I so needed to get her take on things, to help get me on track, to have her tell me things like “LetGoAndLetGod” and then telling me to stop rolling my eyes and believe LOL.

She’s been gone 26 months now, and sitting here in her house, near one of her pictures (which, note to self,  needs to be surrounded by lights so that I can see her face at this time of night), I feel her presence and the one thing, the one thing, I want right now is to feel her warmth, to see her face as she helps me figure things out, and to hug and kiss her goodnight.  Maybe her message to me from Dad was her way of letting me know she’s here.   “Hi Mama! Dad gave me your message!”

 

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Mama & Me   #52essays2017

Bring the Darkness into the Light sez #InnerChingona

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I was asked to translate a story that I told a few years ago about how to get your power back when you are going through any type of abuse.  This kind of situation can be so complicated, hurtful, volatile, confusing, and so full of drama that it is very hard to think clearly.  You are reduced to constant damage-control and to trying to take care of others at the expense of you — when you need rest to recharge and energize yourself back to health, safety, productivity and peace.   I told myself that, if I ever came out on the other side of this crazyass situation, that I would always try to help others find their power.    As this story was written three years ago, I have updated it a little to reflect my thoughts now as I translate it.

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I am done hiding. I am done making excuses for this person. I am done acting like I am the only person in the world that this has happened to. Most of all, I am done giving power to people who only want to humiliate me and everything I’m about.

Part of giving power to someone else is to hide, to not let anyone see how affected you are. In the beginning, it is very hard to face anyone because you are ‘sure’ that they know what you are going through, that they can see it on your face,  and the last thing you want is for everyone to know your business, your private drama.   At this point, you are controlled by that person and your circumstances.  It is very hard to think straight and all you can think about is, “I’ve got to keep it together”.

It soon becomes apparent that this is only a facade.  NO one can control the actions of another person forever and I saw, first-hand, how things were completely getting out of control.   We all have that person in our lives to whom we turn to, especially when things are dire.  In my desperate state, I went to my sisters for help.  Scared as I was, I began to feel like my power was slowly returning.

Every time I felt my power come back, I was humbled and thrown down again because this person would do one sinister thing after the other, all in the name of “love”.  I would think, ‘there’s no way he could do this or that…’ and then there would be these sick emails sent to my employers and co-workers one week, and the other, all kinds of crazy postings on my social media, and when that was done, all kinds of weird calls and deliveries would come to my home and office.  Even after all of that, my mind could barely get around this, how could this person want to destroy me, my family and my livelihood?  That I still thought, ‘he’s a complicated person but he can’t REALLY mean what he says/does, can he?’ further shows just how much turmoil and drama was in my life and that I still had a ways to go.

 

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It was a roller-coaster of emotions and withdrawal and hiding out from friends, family, the world.  I was still trying to ‘control’ things and I still couldn’t see, or should I say, I could not yet accept that I had to “let go and let God” help me.  How did I finally figure this out?   Mama was still with us and I finally sat down with her and told her, straight-up, what was happening with me.  What did Margaret do?  She told me that we all make mistakes and that she would pray for my safety and that ‘this too shall pass’.   Still very scared, I felt much more empowered that night.

A few weeks passed from that night and things escalated big-time when, after I refused to answer my phone, I get a call on my mother’s phone saying, “you gonna talk to me now bitch?”   All of the humiliation came back but this was the first time that I got really angry — my mother did not deserve to be brought into this hell.   At this moment, I knew and understood how many women feel when they say, “that’s it”.   I love Mama forever for not judging me, all she said was, ‘he is sick and we need to keep praying for him and I pray for you every day to be safe’.   Little did I know that, on this night, I would receive over 300 calls from both phones as well as text messages.  I will never forget Mama holding the house phone so that I couldn’t get it and telling me to turn my phone off and try to get rest.  Margaret held that phone with the resolve of a mama bear protecting her cub.  I didn’t dare try to get that phone from her, Mama was the strongest super-heroine EVER that night!

The one thing that I learned that night:  bring the darkness into the light and you will see your power come back big time.   I don’t know what I would have done had I not told my sisters and my mother what was going on with me.  To know that someone had my back 100% was the most empowering feeling ever.   Even though my situation did not end that night and so much has happened and I’ve walked into many walls since then, I often refer to that night where Mama really took care of me, sick as she was, and it allowed me to rest and recharge enough to get through the night and the days to come.   Thinking about that night is always  enough to bring me back to where I need to be for that moment, power restored.

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As I translated this into Spanish, I cried all over again.  So many of us Latinas grow up thinking that we are not all that, that we exist to serve and service others.  As we learn to love ourselves a little, we can work on breaking this vicious cycle of hiding, holding things in, taking it to keep peace or to control someone or a situation.   My family is a peace-loving family and I was not brought into this world to live with my head down and not contribute to my familia and my world.   Try to find someone you trust now.  Learn the difference between being used to using a bad situation to benefit you.  This road is long from over but you can prepare yourself for better days and for days where you are not part of someone’s sick game.  Do it for YOU.  I’ve seen with my own eyes how things can and do get better.  Bringing the bad out into the light makes it lose some of its power and, if you’re lucky, you can gain some of that power for yourself.  My goal is to keep my sense of ‘aventada-ness’ and my ‘mevalemadre’ attitude in check so that I will be no one’s ‘sonsatontapendeja’ any more.  Thanks Mama and mis hermanas for showing me that I needed to keep the faith but do my part as well.  Let Go And Let God.  Amen.

 

Feliz Dia de Accion de Gracias 2015!

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What a difference a year makes…Last year all I could do was cry into my food that’s how painful it was to be without my mother. I completely lost my focus, my purpose, and have operated on auto-pilot for many, many months until just a few days ago. #MargaretLivesInMe and I am very thankful for my Dad, my siblings and our Ranch and Grijalva families. Our 17 #TorresBabies continue to bring us much pride and joy – and how much fun are we having watching our lil bebitos King, Yezi, Olivia, and Lucia do something new everyday? Keeping Mama’s traditions alive help me to stay connected to her and I’m thankful for God and for time, which has helped me heal, make my priorities crystal clear and pave the way for whatever comes next.

TAKE PICTURES with your loved ones during the holidays, you will never regret it. Happy Thanksgiving All!

 

 

Mama’s 1st Anniversary In Heaven 11-11-2015

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It’s hard to believe that Mama has been gone from us for a year.  This was the most difficult year ever for the Torres Familia.  As I look at these pictures, I sense the strength, unity and love that we have for each other…THIS is what my mother wanted most for us, she always said that we should clear up any issues or problems with loved ones, that life is too short, that we always needed to be together.   The support we give each other makes the pain much more bearable.

In no particular order, here are some of the things I think about as we celebrate Mama’s First anniversary in Heaven:

Tuesday Nights:  By far, the most difficult night for me during this past year.  Mama left us on a Tuesday night and it was the hardest thing to see her taken from our house and watching the car drive to the back of the Ranch and on the way out forever.   Her Rosary Mass was on a Tuesday night as well…soooo many people showed up thank God or I might have had a really difficult time.  I’ve always had a very hard time attending Rosary and Funeral Masses.  I know that it is necessary to pay one’s respects as well as getting a chance to say goodbye and have closure, that doesn’t make it easier for me though.  All of the those emotions seem to find their way to me on Tuesday nights.

Driven No More:  I have lived my life completely driven and moved very fast and worked hard all of the time, 24/7.  I also spent time very afraid and didn’t want to imagine my life without my parents.  Once I lost Mama and once I saw that I survived, very sad, but survived, everything that I was about before changed.   Gone was the need to be so driven, gone was the need to move at breakneck speed, gone was the need to run, always run.  I finally lost the fear and the need to please everyone all of the time.   In my business, that instinct is very important to success so I know that I’ve lost out on some opportunities because I was no longer willing to play the game.  It is no longer the end of the world for me.

Lost In a Good Way:  I’ve been very distracted, disconnected, lost .  I’m not really worried about it though.  It’s time to do things another way, to live in peace, to change-up my priorities.   Family and Peace are the two things that I think about the most now.  I want to keep up my mother’s traditions, make good on my promise to keep the family together, and I love it that peace is coming back into my life more and more – I’m done with putting drama front and center, I am over that.  Being at peace is helping this girl finally find her way and reason for being.

As long as Mama is happy, I’m happy:  I was the one who had the hardest time accepting that Mama no longer wanted to do her dialysis treatments, she was tired of all of the needles, the lack of energy, the pain, all of it.  I thought that, as the days went on, that she would change her mind once things got difficult for her without dialysis.  The thing is, things didn’t get more difficult for her, they got more peaceful, she didn’t seem to be in physical pain – in some ways, she was stronger physically WITHOUT food or water.   Mama wasn’t emaciated or anything so I knew that God was taking care of her and eventually, I accepted everything.  When I get sad, I think of how ready she was to get to her eternal home and this comforts me.

Embrace the Signs:  Instead of being afraid of the signs:  lights randomly turning on, Mama’s birds singing so loud, seeing Mama in dreams, or random “Margaret” songs that come on the radio; I am grateful to maintain the connection to my mother and welcome any message or sign from her.   She’s very much alive in my heart and soul, I love being around her house and things.  I feel her energy helping to move me forward.

My life changed forever on November 11, 2014 when Mama left this earth.  Slowly but surely, things are starting to feel right again.  We Torres’ are still strong and we are still together … everything else will, eventually,  fall into place.

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Day 14 of Hispanic Heritage Month Photo Challenge: Hoy/Today #HHM15Foto

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As El Dia de Los Muertos approaches, I think about how much my life today is IN FLUX and going thru a lot of CHANGE. I’m still trying to find my way after Mama’s passing and, more than that, trying to figure out what I want to do and how I want to live the rest of my life. I feel good about whatever comes next because I know three things: God exists: there’s no way Mama could have gone weeks without food or drink before her passing, He took care of her and us. 2) Mama always calmed me down whenever I worried that the family wouldn’t be together, “you’re all too old to change now, you’ll always stay together” 3) This ‘giving myself away’ attitude ended on 11/11/2014 so whatever is next for me will be positive and right. Just like Mama said it would be LOL #HHM15Foto ‪#‎MargaretLivesInMe‬

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