Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: My Last Visit with Mom

Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: My Last Visit with Mom: My last visit with Mom September 12, will mark eight months that Mom went home to the Lord. Last month, on the same date, I posted a pi...

My Last Visit with Mom

My last visit with Mom

September 12, will mark eight months that Mom went home to the Lord.

Last month, on the same date, I posted a picture on FB.  It was of Mom and Crissy, taken exactly a year ago last month at BB’s wedding. As I studied her face in that picture, I could see the pain that she was already enduring but keeping to herself. That day was probably one of her worst, in terms of physical pain and of not being able to fully partake of such a joyful event. I remember having to take her outdoors and away from the loud music, her head hurt so much.

Looking back on the events that lead up to what could have been one of her happiest days, the night before she insisted on waiting up for Cristina and me who were flying into the island from New Jersey. We had rented a car at the Luis Marin airport and were en route to Mom’s house. She had cooked for us and was anxiously anticipating our getting home and eating what she had cooked for us.  I finally convinced her to go to bed, that we would see her the next day. But needless to say, she waited up for us, and regardless got up to serve the pasteles and rice with gandules she had cooked for us. It broke my heart, because I knew she was making a real sacrifice staying up past her bedtime to be with us.

The next day, the three of us went into town. Mom seemed genuinely happy as we went from store to store in the small town of Cabo Rojo, looking for the perfect pair of shoes for her to wear to the wedding (and, for a pair of sunglasses).  I should mention that she already had shoes for the wedding, but complained they were not comfortable.  She was like a teenager looking for the perfect accessories for the special event!  We finally found her shoes, and I will never forget the look of contentment on her face.  After getting everything we set out to get, we stopped for lunch at the Taco Maker in the shopping center on Highway 100, only minutes away from Mom’s house, where we indulged our taste buds to their tasty fries and chicken tacos for lunch.

Again, I witnessed a sense of peace in her demeanor, as the three of us enjoyed a quiet time over lunch. Yet, I also detected a faraway look in her face, one which I can only describe as her being in two places at once - elated to be sharing this special moment with her daughter and granddaughter, but also sad as if looking into the future.

A week later, Mom and I went back to Taco Maker when we went to the Mayaguez Mall to exchange the nightgown I had brought her as a gift from home. In exchange, she chose one which I didn’t think was as nice – something more youthful and whimsical.  Nonetheless, I respected her choice and was happy for her.

Mom and I have always had a special bond. I would like to believe, one unlike the bond she had with Kimi, and with Elba. With me, Mom felt free to say whatever was on her mind, and I appreciated that.  I welcomed it, and I prided myself on the fact that she could feel so comfortable around me.

However, I remember that on her last visit to River Edge, Mom made me cry over something she said to me.  I was doing her hair and she was not happy.  I should mention that Mom had never in her life said anything to me to make me cry.   That time, she brought me to tears - tears of hurt, of Mami subconsciously comparing me to my sister. But in reality that was the farthest from the truth. The fact is that those tears had been building up inside of me for months--a sense of loss of my once youthful mother, of having to say goodbye again so soon, of me not having enough patience with my dear elderly parent, whenall she did was merely point out in her innocent way how Kimi always did her hair and never complained.  (I should point out, that doing anyone’s hair is not my favorite thing to do, and Mom’s hair was no exception--I have a hard enough time doing my own.) That time, I got so annoyed that I lashed out at her, saying something like, ‘”Yes, I know.  Kimi is this.” Or, “Kimi is perfect . . .” Then the I broke down and cried like I had never cried over anything before.

It never occurred to me that Mom might just be looking for attention from me, for some affection from me, but she that was probably going about it the wrong way.  Maybe the only way she knew?

That time, I apologized for my outburst.  Mom, however, was not moved, and she never apologized to me, at least not formally. Obviously, again, with me, Mom was free to say (or not say) what was on her mind; and apparently she didn’t think it necessary. Because when people love each other, the way mothers and daughters love one another, sometimes words are redundant. And like the famous saying from the movie, Love Story, goes, “Love is never having to say you’re sorry!”  And so, after I pitied myself for a couple of hours, I was okay with it and reached out to her and Mom and I were best buddies again.

This was the kind of relationship Mom and I had. I would always try to remember that she didn’t have much time left on this earth. She was after all 88, only two years away from 90. And my God, how many people live to be 90!  (And in Mom’s case, still look as good.)  I kept reminding myself that her longevity and good genes were a blessing from God; and that we, her children and grandchildren were blessed to have her genes. I also always reminded my girls that we should cherish every second we had with her, because one never knows when one of us will be called home.

On Aug 12, 2012, at the reception of BB’s and Karen’s wedding, Mom complained of an awful head pain. My heart ached so much for her. I tried to put myself in her shoes, and realized what a huge sacrifice she must have made to be there for her youngest grandson’s wedding. Truth be told, the music could have been a bit lower. Plus the heat and humidity was a teensy bit stifling that night. I was perspiring as if I’d been working in the sugar fields under the scorching sun all day. And so, I quietly led her outside on to the terrace facing the ocean where we sat and talked, and where Kimi and Machy were kind enough to bring dinner out to us.

I remember that Mom looked absolutely beautiful in a royal blue sequined silk ensemble that Kimi had picked out for her, and of course the comfortable shoes we had gotten for her earlier. And I did her hair in an up-do, just as nice as Kimi would have done.

Mom and I shared some beautiful stories that night.  And after dinner, she asked if I would take her back to our hotel room.  Obviously, I took her back to our room, helped her into bed, and decided not to return to the wedding reception so as to keep her company. However, in my quest to alleviate some of Mom’s discomfort, that night I lost my favorite shoes, a pair of gold-tone strappy high-heel sandals, a fact that upset me for weeks. But looking back, nothing matters now. Not even missing out on one of my favorite nephews’ wedding, or losing my shoes.  The only thing that matters is that I was there for Mom when she needed me most. After all, Kimi couldn't be there.   She was celebrating her son's wedding.

After getting her ready for bed, I told Mom that I was going to run down to the reception hall to quickly to fetch us some wedding cake.  When I returned with the mouthwatering cake, Mom who never went to bed without her tea (and sometimes a light snack), didn’t get up to have any, asking instead that I save her piece--that she would have it the next day.

My recollection of the next day and the following 21 days that Mom and I spent together, are as vivid as the computer sitting in front of me. Somehow Mom knew, as well as I also knew in the back of my head, that this was precious time that we would never get back. In essence, this was God’s special gift to both of us, which I will eternally be grateful for. Though never enough time, this was a chance to make this time remembering fondly the rest of my life.

I love you, Mami!  Forever and ever!

What is it about Paris that makes it. . .

What is it about Paris that makes it everyone's favorite city?  Coming in first, even after Madrid, New York, and all the top cities, for me Paris is a never ending magical trip of avenue upon avenue of the most impressive buildings, statues, gardens, etc.  Take for example Les Halles, one of the most interesting buildings (so as not to say ugly) I've yet to see.  How about the Centre Georges Pompidou, which was built "inside-out", thus giving it an unfinished look. Yet it is purposely surrounded by scaffolding, multi-colored gigantic pipes, and ducts.

When we first visited Paris with Victor back in the fall of 1996, we stayed in a hotel in Montmartre where the room was so small that only in single file could one get to the closet, into bed, or take a look out the window.  So small in fact was the room, that Victor had to take an adjoining even smaller room for himself.  I think you get the picture. Three years ago, the spacious room Cristina and I had originally thought we had booked, turned out to be something out of a horror movie.  It was in essence, an eerily dark closet with a cot for a full-size bed.  On top of that, we had to haul our suitcases four flights up a steep dark and then winding staircase.  The minute we entered the room, I knew we that we had to get out of there.  Like pronto!   We should have guessed what awaited us, when after checking in the male front desk clerk handed us two see-through, dried out towels, which had we used them would no doubt seriously have damaged our skin.  I flatly refused to honor that reservation!   And so, after some finagling we got out.  After again fighting our way back through the group of potheads in the narrow street below, we ended up in a similar joint again.  Yet somehow we found paradise at the Holiday Inn right in the heart of the city.  A call to RCI on my recently purchased mobile phone saved the day!

That time, we hustled, struggled with, and ended up on the metro with our heavy suitcases until finally reaching the safety and comfort of the smartly decorated, thoroughly modern chic Holiday Inn.  Thank God for American hotels!

On this last trip to Paris however, again we had the most comfortable and affordable sleeping arrangements at the Novotel in Roissy en France, a beautiful suburb of Paris.   Although, due to a big misunderstanding, we ended up paying twice for the same accommodations.  Ah, the perils of budget traveling!

Centre Georges Pompidou

Montmartre where we stayed in 1996

Les Halles - once a market is now a shopping center

But don't let these little anecdotes deter you from visiting Paris even on a budget.  The sights will astound you!  The cuisine will floor your taste buds!  And the vibe is sure to hook you, time and again!

The tower which was supposed to stay for only three years, ended up staying for ever!

Cooling off at one of the magnificent fountains!

The July Column at the Place de la Bastille with the bronze-gilt figure of Freedom

On the famous Champs-Elysee

Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: Our Lady of Lourdes

Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: Our Lady of Lourdes: It was never on my itinerary to visit Lourdes on this last trip to Europe.  Truth be told, I wasn't even sure where on the map the famou...

Our Lady of Lourdes

It was never on my itinerary to visit Lourdes on this last trip to Europe.  Truth be told, I wasn't even sure where on the map the famous shrine was.  So what a surprise when to my delight, while on the road to Bordeaux, I spotted Lourdes while studying the map of France! And lo and behold, only two hours away from the town where we where staying!

Life is full of surprises! When I told my friend Maureen of my plans to visit France again this year, she said, "Oh wonderful, maybe you can visit Lourdes!"  I was honest with my friend and told her I would never be able to visit Lourdes, because 1) I really had no idea where it was;  2) I didn't think we'd have time; and 3) I didn't think my traveling companions (two young girls) would be up for it.  I had already 'pushed' The Way of Saint James on them, and I was positive they would not want to visit another religious shrine.  

Call me ignorant, or maybe it was a lack of interest on my part - but I really had no idea where Lourdes was.  My thinking was that it was somewhere in the north of France.  My very Catholic friend Maureen, always talked about Lourdes and about the miracles performed at the shrine, especially the cures.  I've never been one to believe - I am of the kind that has to see with my own eyes in order to believe.   On the other hand, I've never doubted either.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact I was brought up in the Protestant church where there is very little devotion to Mary.  So you can understand my somewhat reluctance to 'dive' into the powers of Lourdes.  But call it what you may, be it coincidental, God-incidental, or what have you, the truth is I found Lourdes when I was least looking for her!  Or was it the other way around?

For those of you who don't know Our Lady of Lourdes, it is the most famous of Catholic shrines worldwide.  Unlike Santiago de Compostela's Way of Saint James, where pilgrims of all backgrounds, ethnicities, and religions visit in search of inner and spiritual peace, Our Lady of Lourdes is probably Catholics' number one venerated site to visit.  It's right up there with the Vatican, and with our Lady of Fatima in Portugal.  Here Mass is celebrated every day.  As for my traveling companions, when I burst out with excitement at finding the site, they were both elated for me and more than happy to visit.  How is that for things working out according to God's plan?


Nestled in a valley in the southwestern part of the Hautes-Pyrenees, Our Lady of Lourdes is the scene of pilgrims gathering from all over the world.  On February 11, 1858, the Virgin revealed herself to a poor shepherd girl, Bernadette Soubirous who was born on January 7, 1844.   Eighteen such apparitions were reported. Bernadette, died in a convent in 1879. She was beatified in 1925, then canonized in 1933.
  Her apparitions literally put Lourdes on the map.  The town has subsequently attracted millions of visitors, the illustrious and the povery-stricken. The Church has recognized many "cures" that have been witnessed here.  

As with most towns in France, Lourdes is a beautiful town to sightsee.  Here you will find the house and convent where Bernadette lived, or at least the place where the house used to be.  

Scroll down for some pictures and enjoy!

Beautiful rendition of Christ on the Cross at the entrance..

So happy to be here.....

Our Lady....

the venerated site comes in full view.....

Entry to the Church

Inside the church....

Adults as well as children in awe of the place.

Depictions of Bible scenes adorn the inside of the church....

the author on the upper part - the cupola

A lone faithful contemplates on the sacredness of such a place....

Statue of Bernadette inside the church....

Bernadette and her flock... people leave flowers on the grounds

Our Lady of Lourdes in all its glory!

Stream encircling the venerated site (the source of the holy water).

Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: And the flood gates opened, finally.....

Snap Krackle 'n Pop!: And the flood gates opened, finally.....: And the flood gates opened, finally….. It wouldn’t be fair to consider myself a writer, if I didn’t at least attempt to writ...

And the flood gates opened, finally.....

And the flood gates opened, finally…..

It wouldn’t be fair to consider myself a writer, if I didn’t at least attempt to write about the most recent developments surrounding my life.   After all, it’s been more than a month since I wrote anything down.  I guess that’s what they call writer’s block.  However, I can use all kinds of excuses, but only for so long – it’s long overdue and I should at least give it a stab. 

Our trip started Sunday, July 7 and went through until July 24 when we flew home.  By now everyone has heard the news.   At the same time that we were flying home, a horrific accident was taking place very near to Santiago de Compostela, a place that has suddenly become very dear to my heart.  It grieves me to think that 79 people lost their lives and that countless others were injured and possibly still in hospitals. 

The whole experience of losing Mom, then out of the blue and without even realizing it traveling on the same exact day that marked her six-month anniversary to the place where our great-grandparents were thought to be born and to the place where the Apostle St. James' remains lay, is definitely something to think about.

Last night at our annual combined Cornerstone Teams II and III dinner meeting, it all came to a head, and the floodgates finally flung open for me.  The fact that I was sitting next to Kelley Lacey might have had some bearing on my sudden emotional outburst, considering that Kelley is known to cry at the mere mention of anything remotely sad.   Suffice it to say that when our co-hostess Mary played the closing song, “Stand By Me”, which I originally started singing along to and swaying to the beat like everyone else, I was literally brought to my knees, sobbing relentlessly for a good ten minutes or so.   Embraced on either side by my sisters Karina and Kelley in a friendship circle of close to twenty women, I clung to Kelley as if she were my lifeline and the only person who could understand my pain. 

It was, I believe, a culmination of emotions that brought me to that point.   Not having fully grieved the loss of Mom; visiting the Apostle St. James’ final resting place, and journeying to the land of my ancestors, specifically the Santiago’s (Mom’s last name is De Santiago).   And, I’m guessing, feeling the tragic loss of 79 innocents, near such a sacred place, all finally came to a head.  The fact that my two girls and I could have been on that train and possibly killed didn’t escape my mind either.   And from henceforth, is probably where my meltdown more than likely stemmed from.   Added to the fact that it was a grueling two and a half weeks for us three girls, gallivanting nonstop through every city from Madrid to Santiago, from Bordeaux to Paris, and then down to Barcelona, this tryst most definitely took a toll not just on my body, but on my emotions as well. 

I guess I just needed to empty myself emotionally.  On top of all that, this week we received distressing news.   My brother-in-law, the patriarch of our Vargas-Santiago family, was admitted to the hospital with chest pains and underwent emergency surgery of the heart.   The idea that we might lose another dear family member so soon after losing Mom, was probably too much to bear.  

I could go on about all that transpired this week, but I will end by saying that God is overly gracious, and kind, and so very generous in every way with my family and with me.  For that, I will be eternally and forever grateful to Him.