(W)rite on Cue(Q): May 2012

Mom wrote a Chronicle of the days and weeks surrounding Dad's Passing. You think you are going to remember certain details forever - but time does have away of eroding even the sharpest of memories. Mom has done a wonderful job of capturing events of this bitter-sweet "journey"...

(Flowers on the terrace in our Puebla Home)

March 30, 2012, was Enrique’s 74th birthday.

I had done some shopping in the morning, had come home for lunch before running a few more errands. Enrique and I had been talking via Skype twice a day, at 2:00 and 8:00, but we were not planning to talk that day until evening as he was planning on having lunch with some colleagues to celebrate his birthday.

The phone rang, and Quique played me the message on his answering machine: “I don’t speak much English, but come to Puebla right away as Sr. Ochoa has died.” We thought it might be a crank call, as those have been somewhat common in Puebla lately. It wasn’t.

Enrique had had dinner the day before with Fulvia and Javier, the friends who bought our house in Puebla. They had brought chicken and ribs from one of our favorite places to eat together. It was an impromptu meal, and apparently Enrique felt fine.

The next morning he talked via Skype with his brother Pepe. He said he wasn’t feeling well, that he felt like something was stuck in his upper chest. He talked with Pepe again an hour or so later and said he had taken an Alka-Selzer and had vomited and was feeling a little better.

Mago, our maid/housekeeper came and offered to call a doctor or ambulance, but Enrique refused and asked her to accompany him to the little clinic just two blocks from our home. He collapsed a little over half way there.

Mago ran to the clinic and two doctors came out and worked on Enrique, but there was nothing to be done. The ambulance came but could not take him as he was already dead. Because he died on the street he was taken to the morgue.

(The spot where Dad collapsed.)

A neighbor, Chalo Sandoval, called Quique, and me, to get phone numbers for Enrique’s family in Mexico City and Aguascalientes. All three brothers, and wives and nieces came within hours. They were able to get Enrique out of the morgue and to the funeral home where we had purchased services years ago. Enrique wanted to be cremated (as do I), and the boys and I did not want to see him in a casket, but Mexican law required him to be embalmed pending cremation the next day. There was a viewing during the night (Mexican custom accompanies remains night and day), and this was important for Enrique’s family. They, and Fulvia and Mago, stayed all night, and the next morning several people from the school came as well. Norma, Enrique’s ex-secretary, was especially helpful.

Here in Cedar Falls, Quique texted Pastor Brian and Pastor Denny. Pastor Brian was at Quique’s house before I got there, in sweatshirt and shorts from helping a friend move. He stayed to help and pray with us, as did Pastor Denny. McKenzie, Josh’s amazing girlfriend, took the younger kids to a neighbor’s and kept them occupied while they tried to assimilate the fact that Grandpa was dead. Erin’s birthday is also March 30, and she and Enrique were looking forward to celebrating together when Enrique got back to Cedar Falls.

Quique, Victor and I could not get plane tickets on Saturday until very late, which would have been difficult for all. We flew down early Sunday. Two of Enrique’s nieces (Gabrielita and Ana Cecelia), met us at the airport and we went to Enrique’s father’s house (Gabriela lives there now) for a get-together with nearly all of Enrique’s relatives. It was a wonderful chance to see everyone at once: close relatives we had seen recently, some we had not seen in decades, and a few we had never met! Augustin, Enrique’s cousin who for decades has pastored the little church in Mexico City where Enrique began his pastorate after he left the seminary, led a short service.

(With Family - at Papa Grande's old house - now belonging to my cousin Gabriela.)

Martha and Mary flew down on Monday. They left their car at O’Hare, as did we. They returned to Cedar Falls the next Saturday and Vic the following Monday.

On Tuesday there was a memorial service at the school, with over 150 people there. The school has recently been very much divided over the cancellation of health benefits for retirees. One camp is suing the school, but both camps were there at the memorial, with no indication of any problems. Also there were members of the little church Enrique and I had been attending recently, members of the churches we worked with in earlier years, friends of Quique and Vic, etc. Dr. Chaffee organized the service, for which we were grateful. My cousin Gary, who served as high school principal at the Colegio Americano from 1982-1984, flew down from New York (he teaches at New York University) and said a few words at the memorial, as did Enrique’s brother Pepe and several others. Enrique had touched so many people in so many ways.

(The Memorial Service at the Colegio Americano.)

Enrique had remained in Puebla to try to finish up sorting and tossing papers, and to be close to Javier, who had been so terribly ill for almost nine months. We were very afraid he would not survive, but a few weeks ago he finally was able to have surgery to re-connect his intestine, and he has been steadily recovering ever since. Enrique was able to see the beginning of his recovery.

Enrique reported that he was making progress with his papers, and it was obvious that he had indeed read through a lot, burned quite a bit, and taken some to a local recycling center. There still were, however, boxes and boxes of partially sorted or unsorted papers. Enrique was organized to a fault, but he simply could not throw away any piece of paper he thought might possibly be useful or interesting.

All five of us dove in to the piles. The first thing that was cleaned off was Enrique’s desk, chronically buried in piles of stuff. We sorted things into boxes marked Toss/Burn/Recycle/Give away/ Keep, and we found all sorts of things: old letters, school things, travel souvenirs, memorabilia of all sorts. We quickly realized that to be able to go through all this together was a gift. We cried some, laughed a lot, and were thankful.

(Dad's Desk - now clean.)

Despite the pain and shock, there were blessings upon blessings. Enrique knew everybody in the neighborhood, not socially but to talk to on the street. The little shopkeeper where he fell watched over him while Mago ran to the clinic, another old friend of Quique’s brought cones to divert cars, the neighbor across the street was the one who called Quique with the original message (Mago had Enrique’s cell phone).

Before we even got to Puebla, Julieta Perez, one of Quique’s high school friends with whom he had re-connected on Facebook a couple years ago, had offered us the use of a car, an SUV, for the whole time we were in Puebla. We had given our van to Juan, the pastor of the little mission south of Saltillo where Quique has taken work teams for years. Enrique was very good at getting around by microbus, but for us it would have been a nightmare trying to get to all the places we had to go.

Another unexpected blessing was a solution for Sisi, our slightly psychotic alley-cat Siamese. A couple of people had offered to take her, but she was often so aggressive, and scratched and bit unexpectedly, that we did not want to give her to anyone for fear they would either abuse her or kick her out into the street. Enrique loved her dearly and she slept with him every night, but we had agreed that the only humane solution was to have her put to sleep before we left Puebla. The day after we got there, Mago asked if she could take Sisi. She is the only person we would have said yes to, as she knew Sisi well (she gave her to us in the first place) and we knew she would not abuse her. She packed up Sisi’s big wire cage (actually a bird cage), her toys, food, dishes, litter box, etc. and we called her a cab to take Sisi home. She said that at first Sisi and her own cat said very unkind things to one another, but that they soon began to warm up. Two days later she called to say she had returned from her mother’s and found both cats asleep in Sisi’s open cage. She has since reported that they now play together, and that even Mago’s dogs tolerate the cats. This is one of several experiences in which we have received solutions that we had not even begun to imagine.

(Mago - with Dad when he died - provided fresh flowers every day next to his urn.)

We all worked hard the next week, and we ended up with over a dozen garbage bags of paper to recycle. We labeled them and put them out in front of the house, and soon someone came to carry them off, as they also did the cardboard we put out. One of the things I like about Mexico is that very little goes to waste, and it is good to see someone making a few pesos from something that would otherwise be thrown away.

Quique and I also burned six big boxes of papers with personal information. Last year Javier had rigged a big oil drum over in the lot to burn papers in. It was already half full of ashes; Enrique had indeed made a start.

Vic did a heroic job sorting through bank statements, etc. He left things ready for Quique and me to tackle going to the various banks and bank branches to cancel credit cards, close accounts, and wire money back to Cedar Falls.

I receive a monthly Social Security pension from Mexico, accessible from here in CF, and I am elegible for death benefits for Enrique as well--nearly the entire sum that Enrique received monthly, we are told. Unfortunately, the bureaucracy, paperwork and footwork involved are surreal and would have taken weeks. For starters, they needed a copy of our marriage certificate, extended after Enrique’s death, from the place we were married. This, presumably, to prove that we were not divorced. We were able to get this document, thanks to Enrique’s brother Gabriel who brought it to us from Mexico City by bus, then turned around and went home. What could some peasant living in Chiapas, married somewhere in the northwest, have done? 

There was also one bank account, a retirement account, that in changing from one form to another somehow was left with no beneficiary stated. Enrique had put all four of us on all accounts since the boys were in high school; there is no way he forgot.

Fortunately, one of Victor’s good friends from school is a lawyer. Unfortunately, he has multiple sclerosis and cannot practice anymore, but his brother is also a lawyer. He will pursue these two problems for us, thank heaven.

Our initial reaction was that we were only six weeks away from both of us being here in Cedar Falls, permanently. I had already bought tickets for me to fly to Puebla May 19 and for both of us to return on June 9. But if this had happened, we would not have had the chance to see all of Enrique’s family, and all of the school people. Had Enrique been incapacitated, I don’t know what we would have done. Had this happened last year, we would not have bought this cute little house in Cedar Falls, so near the boys and their families, and so near the hospital, post office, library, and charming downtown area. Our houses in Puebla and LaPorte would not have been cleaned out and sold (blessings on Joan and her family for getting the latter done!), we would have had a car to dispose of, etc. If something had happened to both Enrique and me, the boys would not have known where to begin to untangle everything, even though they are technically on all of our accounts. (This was one of the things we most worried about.)

Over the last few months we had sorted, tossed, and packed the van to the roof three times for round trips to Indiana and Cedar Falls. Still, all our furniture, most of our dishes and so forth were still in Puebla. Fulvia and Javier were willing to adopt most of this, simplifying things immensely. They have made it clear that we are welcome to stay with them any time we return to Puebla. Vic and I will probably return for a few days in June or July to finish up some last things.

Enrique had seen our house in Cedar Falls and had begun to feel comfortable here in November-December; as he insisted, he was not at all reluctant to leave Puebla, but he did still need to deal with all those papers and to worry about Javier. Both of these things undoubtedly increased his stress.

Fulvia and Javier are finally beginning to move into our house. Javier is still weak, but he is able to start doing a few things. He is retired, of course, and handy at doing practically anything. We always felt that this was a perfect home for them; it is in good condition, but requires a fair amount of maintenance and puttering--things Enrique always did.

(Our dear friends: Javier, Fulvia and their son, Manuel. It's their home now...)

Quique and I flew back to Chicago on Wednesday the 18th. We brought Enrique’s ashes with us. We had thought to take the subway to a bus back to Cedar Rapids, but that would have entailed dragging big suitcases through the streets. Kim, a friend and youth director from the church drove to O’Hare with Becky to pick us up. Kimbo has been a good friend, babysitter and help to Quique and his family for years.

We will have a short service at Naz (Nazareth Evangelical Lutheran Church) soon so that the grandkids and the people who already knew Enrique from church can participate.

So many blessings, so many reasons to recognize, and be grateful, for God’s timing. Sometimes it takes us awhile to realize that what we think we want is not what we need. But we have been immensely grateful every day, for so many things. We have the world’s best sons, and they have amazing wives and children, all of whom are unfailingly supportive and treat me like the Queen Mother. They take me along to games, plays, recitals, concerts, school functions and make me a part of their very active lives. And I can be occasionally useful to them.

Now that I am back in Cedar Falls and the numbness is wearing off, it is hitting harder, as I expected it would. I am used to living here alone, but living alone with Enrique in Puebla, planning to come soon, is different from living alone, period. Tears are much closer to the surface, and I think or see something twenty times a day that I want to share with Enrique. But I have lots to do, and I am so very grateful to be here, in my own home, with many of the things from our homes in LaPorte and Puebla, with Quique and Vic and their families nearby, and the support of their church family, now my church family too. For whatever weeks, months, years I have left, I am home, and I am cared for, every day. Thank the Lord.

May 2, 2010: Pipis is dead. Fulvia called to tell us that she had been not wanting to get up at times, but was more or less active other days. She had been like this for some time, but as long as she still enjoyed her daily treat and didn’t seem to be in any particular distress, we didn’t want to have her put to sleep. We knew that she would not live long--she was nearly 12--but Fulvia and Javier were willing to watch her and smooch with her a bit. Yesterday she didn’t want to get up at all, and this morning couldn’t do so. Mago checked her (Fulvia was working), and they called the vet right away. He came (he makes house calls, bless him), confirmed she was dying and euthanized her. Mago buried her in the lot; she and Enrique had agreed where and how. We had rather hoped this would happen before we left Puebla for good. Again, the timing wasn’t exactly what we had in mind, but we are relieved that Pipis is at rest, too.

(Dad's beloved Pipis peeking through her hole in the door from across the street.)

(W)rite on Cue(Q)

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Lincoln Talent Show '12

A Chronicle of Dad's Passing

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Dad's Video

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