Hola mi Gente,
I was thinking about my aunt since
yesterday would’ve been her birthday. This is how I keep my ancestors alive…
* * *
Gratitude
Can you walk on water? You have done no
better than a straw. Can you soar in the air? You have done no better than a
fly. Conquer your heart; then you may become somebody.
- Ansari of Heart
I will forever be indebted to my
elders -- my predecessors. From the men, especially my father, I owe the gift
of love for knowledge. I will be forever grateful to my father and the rest of
my family for helping instill in me a thirst for knowledge. Philosopher means lover
of knowledge. It was through the masculine aspect of my upbringing that I
was given my mind, the ability to construct and deconstruct logic, the skill of
asking questions, the knack for intellectual discovery -- these were all gifts.
I am not saying these are essentially male traits. I do think that
penetrating awareness is a masculine (yang) aspect that we all possess.
For a long time I thought that it
was through the mind that one evolved, but I was only half-right, there was
something else I was missing. The other gift, bequeathed to me by the
women-warriors in my life, was the gift of the open heart. It was through the
feminine aspect of my upbringing that I learned that true liberation cannot
happen until the mind and heart are integrated. In some Eastern cultures, there
are no separate terms for the mind and the heart -- they are perceived as one.
It was mostly the women in my life, through the power of their example, who
taught me genuine unconditional love. Many people speak of unconditional love,
but few truly know jack shit about it. I am not saying that the domain of the
heart is essentially female (it isn’t). I do think that the heart is part of
the feminine aspect (yin) of our psyches.
I think a large part of social
problems today stem from the deconstruction of the family. What neoliberals
today call “family” is really a downsized version of what family has meant for
thousands of years. The nuclear family -- the so-called basic family unit
consisting of Mother/ Father/ Sister/ Brother -- is new. For most of our shared
history, family included aunts, uncles, cousins, non-biological (“adopted”)
members of a larger social network, and sometimes even whole communities. It
was within these extended family structures that one learned about
unconditional love, community responsibility, and connectedness in ways that
can never be possible within our downsized and alienated times.
What is social media but a modern
attempt to reclaim the larger, more expansive meaning of family and community?
It is as if we sense a loss of connection in our materially richer but
increasingly insular, and sometimes desperate modern lives, and we reach out...
I was fortunate enough to be raised
in a large, extended family. We were close because we had to be -- my
parents and their siblings were first-generation Puerto Ricans thrust into a hostile
society that neither cared for nor welcomed them. So we stuck together: most of
us lived in the same building and/ or city block and my cousins and I were
raised more as sisters and brothers rather than dispensable family members. I
often joked that if a bombed were dropped on 704 E. 5th St., the
Rosarios would have ceased to exist. Our extended family shared resources,
pooled money, served as social safety nets for one another, and the
responsibility of raising the children fell on everyone.
However, my paternal aunt, Josefa,
or as we all affectionately called her “Titi Fefi,” was one who sacrificed the
most. She raised everyone’s children. All the adults would work, but Titi
Fefi’s central role was to take care of the children, make sure they were
dressed, prepare hot breakfasts and lunches, soothe scrapes, and mediate
arguments. In effect, Titi Fefi was everyone’s surrogate mother -- she
was a universal mother.
She never asked for anything in
return and carried her burden mostly without complaint. I can honestly say that
without her contributions, our family would have been hard put to survive. I
could also say that most of our successes were partially connected to Tit
Fefi’s sacrifices. As the children got older, she would eventually work as a
washer-woman and her raw hands, the outer layer of her skin often stripped from
over exposure to laundry chemicals, were often the reason why a cousin could
buy books for college, or I could have those shoes I wanted, or another cousin
got a Christmas gift. We sometimes never even knew it was Titi Fefi’s doing, I
honestly believe Titi didn't see it as giving, her generosity of spirit came as
natural as breathing.
Eventually, as is often the case
with upward mobility, the family would disperse to different parts. First, it
was my uncle, Jaime, who moved to a Jersey City house on earnings culled from
years working at a factory job. Then an older cousin would finish college (a
first) and move his new family and mother, Sylvia, to a small upstate
community. Little by little, everyone left our Lower East Side enclave,
eventually leaving Titi Fefi alone. Well, actually, my father and I lived with
Titi Fefi, but most of the family moved on.
We were always close as a family
and the holidays were often celebrated at Titi Fefi’s house because her love
was such a magnet for good feeling. No matter how successful the rest of the
family became, the older generation always made it clear that family came before
individual success or material gain. They never forgot how important cohesion
was for the family’s survival in those early days and they kept that message
alive.
In time, the elders passed on,
falling victim to old age and disease. As the younger generation moved farther
away, the family reunions became less frequent. The children of the second
generation didn’t grow up with the same cultural values or with the experience
of an extended family, and soon we all separated into little units, apart from
one another. There were no more huge and festive family reunions, and Titi Fefi
would now often spend the holidays alone (at the time, I was more interested in
chasing insanity).
Eventually, I would leave too,
traveling, my quest -- despoiling maidens, pillaging, and plundering my way
through life. I was exploring the outer margins of sane living and I was
usually in and out of her life, meaning Titi Fefi was mostly alone. Most of us,
including myself forgot -- we forgot the raw hands, the sacrifices, and the
unwavering love. Titi Fefi never had children of her own, but we were all her
children somehow. Yet many of us forgot. Or maybe we didn’t forget, perhaps we
were too busy, I don’t know. Life sometimes does that, you know, we forget
about the important things. Sometimes, as the cliché goes, we are so busy
trying to make a living, we forget to live.
She never complained; never uttered
words of regret. She did what she had to do, just like breathing, it was for
her.
I am no angel in this drama. I used
Titi Fefi’s kindness for my selfish needs and often exploited it. And she had
to bear the brunt of my active addiction. Yet, Titi Fefi’s home was my main
base, the place I could always come to when I needed a place to live and her
door was always open for me. I always had a key. And when I would appear out of
nowhere, the only question asked when I entered through her door was if I was
hungry. Eventually, I would turn things around and I would enter into a stable
and loving relationship, but I would always visit Titi Fefi, at least once a
week.
Oh, how her face would light up
when I would come visit! I’m certain that even if I were a sexually motivated
serial killer Titi Fefi would still love me just as much. That was who she was -- she was love
incarnate, everybody’s Mother.
After several years, my
relationship dissolved, Titi Fefi was in her late 80s and suffering from various
infirmities, one of them being the onset of dementia. She had lost some
cognitive functioning to the point that the family was concerned with her
safety. I moved in with her, thinking it would help both of us.
Big mistake! LOL
For the last two years of her life,
I lived with Titi Fefi and it wasn’t easy. It was almost like taking care of an
unruly child. It sucked up my life and sometimes I was so resentful. Sometimes
she would wake up in the middle of the night and accuse me of plotting to take
over her apartment. Other times, she would become disoriented and ask me where
she was. Still other times she would have long discussions with me thinking I
was my deceased father (whom she raised as her own child). It wasn’t easy and I
was losing heart.
There were good times too: her
feigned outrage when I would ask her about her sex life, for example. She would
laugh at that. And we would spend hours talking about our family history.
Folks, if you have an elder in your life, take the time to ask them about your
history. I guarantee you it’s a whole lot better than any of those fuckin’
idiotic “reality” shows.
Then one day I found her crying.
And she talked and it was as if she was doubting the sacrifices -- if they had
been worth it. No one remembered her, no one visited her, she said. And all my
anger and resentment about taking care of her dissipated and I knew right then
that if I were to have carried her on my back for the rest of her life, I still
wouldn’t have repaid my debt to her. So we stayed together, Titi and I. One
day, I went out and stayed out the entire night (it got so I didn't have a
social life) and I got a phone call the next morning that Titi had fallen
during the night. She spent the entire night on the floor until the home health
aide arrived in the morning. I felt fucked up about that.
Eventually I would become resentful
and angry with my family for abandoning her, so I had planned to make this
speech at Titi’s burial. When I explained my idea, she asked me to promise her
that I would not say anything negative. She made me promise that I wouldn’t
start any shit at her burial. She taught me that day that for some people,
that’s as it good as it gets and sometimes they suffer a great price for not
being a little deeper. She taught me that you give because it is as natural as
breathing, not because you’re doing something, or expecting something in
return.
Not knowing what to do, but knowing
that there was something important here, I asked her, “If there is message for
the family that you have what would it be? Because, like it or not, I’m going
to say something when they bury your ass.” After crossing herself and
admonishing me for speaking of such things, this is what she said:
I want this to be my message to my family that I love so much: Tell them that family is the most important thing in life, that no matter what you become or what you do, it means nothing if you don’t have family. Tell them that.
This was her message and her life's
work and I give this message to you today because, while it might not be deep,
or earth-shattering, and you might not even get it, it is the most important
message you will ever hear and you will never understand it fully until you become
that message.
Her last admonition to me was to
leave her alone because she was tired and she didn’t want to answer my teasing
questions (“Titi! Do you use condoms?” “Are you practicing safe sex?!”). I was
surprised that she refused to eat the pizza I had brought (her favorite treat).
Sensing her tiredness, I kissed her cheek goodnight. She smiled and rolled over
to go to sleep.
She passed away during the night
and the next morning, when I went to wake her up, she had that same look on her
face.
This is for all of us who have
known, and will know, the pain of loss, and for those of us who have
disconnected from our hearts. There are some today who may not have anyone, or
whose family is far away or gone. There are many of us confused about this
world gone slightly mad and deep inside perhaps we despair, uneasy smiles on
our faces.
My aunt’s power of example was that
the only sane response to such despair and uncertainty is to love -- to
reach out and become engaged, enriching the lives of those around us in the
process.
May you all find it in your hearts
to give gratitude and cherish the gifts we are all given.
Though you may not know it, you are loved. You are loved for being who you are, right now this moment, and you will always be loved in that way.
My name is Eddie and I’m in
recovery from civilization…
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