Our Lady of Grandmothers

 It's been a month and 13 days since the volcano Popocatepetl erupted. That morning, the sun shone brightly on Colonia Banjidal, the little house at the end of the cul de sac basked in the morning sun and sharp morning breeze. A hummingbird fluttered over the black rail fence into the garden and hovered by a flower by the window, not any flower, the most precious rose that had bloomed in that house: my Abuelita. And as the blue and white colibri, the humingbird hovered, her veil dropped over my grandmother and she whispered "Come with me, my daughter." 

Our Lady sees us all as her babies.

The gentle ticking of the oxygen machine kept going, the sweet morning sun shone steady, and the pathway for a jumbo jet of a soul to take off on the runway was clear. There on the runway of life, went my Abuelita's soul and stood side by side with Our Mother dressed in blue and white calling her daughter home...There was utter silence, the engines roared gearing up for take off, Our Lady nodded in her direction saying "Go!", and on that beautiful morning, surrounded by the beauty of all the rose petals from her garden, the soul of my grandmother looked towards Our Lady and nodded in agreement, "Vamonos!" The sky held steady ready to launch her soul, she picked up pace, flames darting off the ground, and her soul went roaring into the sky, with the wings of hummingbirds and rose petals fluttering around her magnificent soul as it took off leaving the planet she'd lived on for 100 years. The earth shook as she exhaled her last breath, and the volcano erupted. The oxygen tank kept faithfully ticking along in the quiet little room, not letting anyone know the secret it held. The volcano made it on every news channel in the world. What reporters didn't know, was this: the volcano was exploding with the vibration as the loss of an ancient powerful soul left the planet. The soul of a woman who in the strength of her life gave the weakest people the love that only a mother can give, by giving them The Mother.

I hope flying off the planet felt this cool to her.

I'll never forget the weeks before the volcano erupted, I held my grandmothers hand and we talked about her 83rd wedding anniversary party. We made it up entirely, but enjoyed imagining who came, what music was played, how the house was decorated. Granny couldn't believe she had been married for 83 years "To that old man?!" she asked in horror when I wished her a happy anniversary. As the list of party goers were named, she paused and became serious. She closed her eyes and I wasn't sure where her mind was taking her, then she asked "Did my mom come?" I held her hand and said "Yes, your mom came to the party." Granny set her jaw tight and then asked, "What did my mom say?" at 100 years old, my granny who gave life to so many children of her own, and continued giving life to anyone who approached her, was in need of a mother. I stroked her forehead and told her.

"Your mom wore a beautiful blue dress and a veil. She said she loves you very very much, and like the roses in the garden, you are a precious rose. You are her sweet daughter and she was so incredibly happy to see you and she can't wait to hug you." I whispered to my granny. She snuggled under her quilt and signed, "Que bonito." and stroking her hand I led her to nap in that moment with her mom, Our Lady of Grandmothers.

Words fail me to highlight the beauty of this incredibly loving mother of my mother. She was the queen of our family, the queen of our neighborhood, the queen of the community. She taught us how to be moms, how to be wives, how to be businesswomen, how to make things work when all seemed lost, she taught me how to love, how to knit, how to defend myself, how to threaten the life anyone who wanted to hurt a child, she taught me how to make friends and how to avoid bad people. She taught me how to dress, how to dance, how to do my make up and how to feel if meat was good. She taught me the right color of frying food. She was everything every professor of life should be. 

I'm not surprised the ring of fire took off starting with el Popocatepetl exploding the day she died. The world truly lost a soul who taught so many of us how to be good women. Long live Abuelita. At one of her funeral masses (oh, there were nine....) they played a song from her childhood "Viva Cristo Rey" it was from the time of war, and Abuelita was a little girl hiding for being a Catholic. I looked at my uncle and tears streamed down his face. We both knew Abuelita sent us the song in the mass and was smiling down from the stars and clouds singing it proudly to us in her native dialect, "Viva Cristo Rey, Que Viva!"