I remember as if it happened yesterday. It was Memorial Day and Mama had been taken to the hospital. We didn't know exactly what had happened yet, we didn't know how bad it was, if it was even bad at all. I don't have the exact details even today of how it happened, but I do know that when she tried to write with her right hand, and Mama was known for her impeccable and beautiful penmanship, that she was unable to grasp and write. She got scared. Everyone got scared.
The look on all of our faces that day is unforgettable. Fear. One step away from tears. Ready to scream out of frustration, of not knowing what to do. We all instinctively knew that this was serious. Nothing had ever happened to Mama before, at least not at that level, it was the scariest day ever.
Anniversaries, good or bad, seem to make your body react, even when you don't realize it. I have been close to fearful tears all day, my stomach in knots, my inability to concentrate, and then it hits me. I am reliving those stressful hours of that fateful Memorial Day.
Our mother was super 'red white and blue' and her favorite holidays were Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Veterans Day. As bad as that Memorial Day was for her and for our family, it did not diminish her love for her red white and blue days. As Memorial Day remembers the fallen in service, Mama did become one of the fallen: she was paralyzed on the right side from the stroke, had to learn how to do EVERYTHING again, including writing with her left hand. Mama also felt the disrespect and indifference of being seen as a person handicapped, not perfect, not normal, therefore not seen. It was painful to watch without wanting to scream at people, 'treat her the same as everyone else!'
At the same time, it was empowering to watch: Mama "made" people speak to her and taught us how to make them look at her and speak to her. Mama faced one challenge after another, with faith front and center, throughout her recovery and even when it was determined that nothing else could be done. Margaret had a resolve, a strength, a will, that I will never completely know from where it came -- she moved forward and showed us all how to do it as well. It has taken almost my entire life to understand this type of faith, this type of acceptance. Once I "got it", I was truly able to know my mother, to learn from her. Chingona wisdom. She always told us that living life quietly and never saying anything, doing things to keep the peace, doing for others without doing for yourself would catch up one day, she did not want us to end up like her: unable to be independent, unable to drive and do things by herself, being dependent on medication and therapy forever. She would, especially, tell me to take care of myself because I would not be able to handle being unable to do me, to be whatever I want, go wherever I want. She's so right.
Memorial Days since that fateful day have always been different. More low-key, respectful, quieter. Not bad though. A sad thing happened but it does not diminish our gratitude in what folks sacrificed so that we could have a great life in our great country. I choose to remember what Mama sacrificed in order to keep her family together throughout the greatest challenge of our family's life. We always remember you Margaret Mary Grijalva Torres, always.
#52EssaysNextWave 3/52 #52SlicesOfChingonaLife #UnleashingYourInnerChingona
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