Process — the noun that I’m utilizing to take heed to the extremities and substantiality of the journey I’m sustaining here on planet Earth. Recently, my mother took her last breath of air before her lungs failed to continue any oxygen flow. The passing of Norma Iris Torres – my friend and mom – has been difficult, to say the least. As melancholic as it is, I start off this way because it’s real; it’s authentic. It’s something I need to share with those who understand or are maybe seeking to understand life as we know it. I don’t think we understand life until we’ve come across the experience of death for ourselves. Maybe it’s the reason why followers of Jesus Christ choose to be born again in order to fulfill their lives abundantly. Be that as it may, life’s expedition is a great one; a bumpy one; a strange one; a cohesive one; a beautiful one. Some might call this path a parallel dream in our universe. Some may even go as far as saying that our path has already been written. Have you ever read The Alchemist? Well, I have – and within Santiago’s path comes along a slew of lessons; lessons that have already been carved; have already been written – in other words, “Maktüb!”
I’ve never grieved an immediate family member’s death – it feels unreal to have experienced the passing of my mom. Respectfully, it feels like a dream; a dream that I am beginning to accept and understand day-by-day, because you know what? That’s all my siblings and I have – this day, this hour, this moment. It amazes my soul that, alongside my beautiful siblings, I’d been raised by a woman whose strength, love, and care can be felt from at least two planets away. The celestial sky has channeled the perfect star I’d initially come across: my momma. Looking into the depths of the universe, her spirit is helping to form supernovas that are explosive, flaring with light throughout the night sky, helping to glisten our Milky Way and beyond. Similarly to Disney’s The Princess and The Frog, my mom is now a part of the heavens that define our Earthly existence, erupting with joy that supersedes any meaning you and I have of happiness at this time.
My mom made heroic efforts to live her best life while also staying completely attentive to her family. Words cannot describe the love she has for her family – she would do any and everything under the sun to make us feel happy and appreciated. Unconditionally, she bestowed and sought out love even when it was not at its fullest reciprocation. I’d gotten to witness her best self through tumultuous times; she’d taught me so much about perseverance with action. What made her certainly did not break her; I appreciate her eternal presence, especially for being the catalyst to my birth hour. Here’s a quick story I will share with you that she loved sharing:
Prior to my inception and growth spurt within my mom’s uterus, she personally experienced two miscarriages. However, I was no easy feat, so one can only imagine her preparation for the worst, along with the worrisome feeling shaking her core, literally. As my mom was in the labor process, doctors gave her news she didn’t want to take heed of. “Mrs. Torres, there’s a high chance your son is not going to make it; his heart rate is decreasing, and we need to take him out as soon as possible. He is suffocating.” With tears trickling down her light brown cheeks, my mom prayed with all her might; she conceived the energy to bestow confidence in the procedure. With faith, her heart rate decreased and worries began to turn to positive mindfulness.
At this point in time, my mother’s hospital roommate had begun to fret and inquired on my mom’s well-being: “Todo está bien?” the roommate asked. Subsequently, my mother described to her roommate a doctor dressed in all white, who then entered the room to reassure my mom of her son’s stable health and smooth delivery-to-be. The roommate, puzzled, leaned over and asked, “Who are you talkin’ about?” At this moment, my mom then realized she was spoken to and touched by an angel; by God’s messenger. Unbeknownst to me, I had my final conversation with my mom, which consisted of being one of her encouraging angels. That night, as she lay peacefully, preparing for her ascendance, dismissing any Earthly suffering, I have no doubt her angels helped to construct a peaceful final thought and feeling.
Though my mom and I sometimes clashed, we mindfully built a relationship during the final few years we spent together here on Earth that I am at peace with. We’ve made breakthroughs during the fluctuant times; we made breakthroughs during the steady times. I’ve gotten to understand her motherly nature much more than I thought I ever would. Surely that understanding will continue as she diligently watches and pores over me and my siblings. Truthfully, I am not sure who, what, or where I would be if not for her genuine guidance and care. I know one thing’s for sure: that guidance and care is never going to waiver; even in the afterlife. Her memory will forever live on through generations to come.
Thank you, mom, for your continuous endearment that reigns on through the frequencies in the cosmos and crashes ashore unto my heart made of sand, which soaks up your everlasting high-tide of love. Te amo, ma.