This poem is in loving memory of mi Tía Mildred. She loved Jesus, her family and her dogs, Dolly, Monique and Jazzy. She liked to call me “Lito-pin” and my dad’s favorite term of endearment for her was “Mildru-chin,” which I’d come to use affectionately for her, too. Her husband, “Luchito” (her name for him), of almost 50 years, was her soulmate and best friend. Half of her nieces and nephews called her “Cha” and the other, “Mamow.” Mildred spoke fluent Spanglish, which is one of my favorite memories about my favorite aunt.
Like your mother
You cast a wide net
Of kindness
Into the ever-changing waters,
Called Family.
I always wondered
What you did all day,
Mending and patching
Your life away.
It took your passing
To help me appreciate
The art you perfected
Of unconditional loving
As your net kept
Growing and growing,
Bringing Dolly, Monique and Jazzy
Into our crazy family.
You were a mother and teacher
To us all.
You loved every one of us
As if each of us
Won best costume
At the ball.
No favorites
Except, maybe, “Luchito,”
As you liked to call him,
Who forever stands strong and tall
Where cancer listens in vain
For an echo.
And no longer has eyes to see
Porque no tiene ojito.
Now it’s your time to enjoy
Heavenly crowns
Of good deeds
Done on solid ground
From predetermined towns
Like Masaya, Managua and Gretna,
Where the good Lord sent ’ya,
Responding to the affectionate sounds
Of “Cha” and “Mamow.”
“Mildru-chin,”
There’s so much I—
Your “Lito-pin”—
Wish to say,
Face to face,
Staring into your eyes of gray,
In the presence and grace
De Jesucristo,
Quien quiso
Que estés con Él,
Sin delay
So you wouldn’t know
Lágrimas and suffering.
Planets and stars continue their ellipsis;
But from where I stand
The world sees no eclipsis.
I look outside my window
And wonder why others’
Faces aren’t melting,
Feeling the nuclear devastation
Of your leaving,
Or why they’re not in celebration,
Feeling the excitement
Of Heaven’s receiving
One more
To its roll call
Of eternal enchantment.