As I sit here witnessing your last breaths, my mind flashes back to the life you’ve lived, how much you’ve suffered, how much you’ve loved, and how much you have been and always will be loved. I think of you as a warrior, fighting for another sunrise, another day anticipating to see those of whom you loved the most — your children. The priest is here telling us about his first encounter with you just two days ago. A happy, optimist gentle type of man with a thick accent. He got to see the horror of being alone spill through your eyes, as it has always been one of your biggest fears. So, he stayed. He got to witness your incredible humor, as you demanded he bring you a bible/bagel and not to return without it. He got to feel your faith in prayer, alongside your amazing presence. The person I see here laying in front of me won’t be the one I engrave in my memories. Pedro Infante playing in the distance, takes me back to summer nights under the stars, where you would tell Vana and I that the brightest star was our Nana. That we should dance for her so she would shine brighter. You would grab our hands and sway us left and right, and said to never forget that the brightest star was our Nana. A new Pedro song has begun, bringing me back to today. I briefly glance at you, for fear of bursting in to tears, and think about how you will be right next to my Nana and your father, fighting for the chance to be the brightest star, so that those you’ve left behind can see you, and dance to the end of your suffering.
For those of you who asked for a copy of what was read at my grandmother’s funeral, below you will find a link to both the Spanish & English version.
All content is a L.A. CORONA original unless otherwise posted.
iamlacorona.com 