The last time I saw my abuelita, in April of 2004, I pressed my lips against her soft, wrinkly cheek and kissed her goodbye. I promised to visit the following April when we’d celebrate her 100th birthday.
It was a long goodbye, as they always were. She had to ask God to bless me, and then ask the same of several saints.
I didn’t realize it would be the last time I’d see her.
Last December, on Christmas Day, she died.
It was a shock, despite my grandmother’s age. Carmen Maria Rivera Munoz Alvarado was strong, independent and youthful – even as she approached a century.
She lived alone in a two-bedroom concrete house with gated windows in a suburb of San Juan, Puerto Rico. Inside, at every turn, were reminders of her Christian devotion. Instead of art, pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus hung on the walls of every room.
Her daily ritual included eating a bowl of oatmeal, sipping coffee while she read the newspaper and reciting the rosary in the afternoon.
Family and neighbors visited her every day, as did a priest, who would bring her a communion wafer.
Her oldest son, Victor – my favorite uncle – gave up trying to persuade her to move in with him and his wife. My abuelita loved her casita (which her five children, including my mom, bought for her) and her independence.
I didn’t let myself get sad when she died, because I thought that would be selfish. She lived a long life, and it was time that she rested – as Latinos love to say – with los angelitos.
There are questions I never got a chance to ask her.
Did you have any boyfriends before you met Grandpa?
When you were a child, what did you dream about becoming?
Did Mommy drive you crazy the way I drove her crazy?
I may never get answers, but Wednesday – on the second day of the Día de los Muertos celebration, when the spirits of deceased adults return to Earth – I will be waiting for her.
I will light candles in glass containers emblazoned with the images of Jesus, St. Michael the archangel, San Martín de Porres and la Virgen de Guadalupe.
Her shrine will include a cup of coffee, very light, with three teaspoons of sugar – just the way she drank it, her favorite Danish cookies, and a photo of the two of us that I took with an outstretched arm.
I will remember her not as a person who is out of my life, but as a spirit who is patiently waiting for me.
This holiday reminds us to reflect on the people we have lost and to celebrate their life. As a Latina, which implies that I am an American of Latin American descent, I don’t favor one tradition over another. I celebrate Halloween and Día de los Muertos, just as I celebrate Christmas and Día de los Reyes (Three Kings Day).
Last night, I handed Snickers, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Almond Joy and other goodies to trick-or-treaters on the north side.
Tomorrow, I will be thinking about those who have passed on, especially my sweet abuelita, the strong-willed woman who never lost faith in what mattered most to her: God and her family.
Cindy Rodriguez’s column appears Tuesdays and Thursdays in Scene. Contact her at 303-820-1211 or crodriguez@denverpost.com.
