Enedia R. Hern

I have written many things in my life -- some of it published, but most of my conceptions remain stored in drafted form. Expressing my thoughts and opinions have, as you well know, never proven difficult for me -- in fact, my dear, you have often told me that words do come easy to me, that I’ve always enjoyed the art of communication. But my beloved, today I must confess that this letter has been the hardest for me to write. Moreover, it will be even harder for me to share these thoughts I have for you with our friends and family. So instead I have asked my surrogate, Chaplain Alex, who so graciously accepted, to read these words for me.

I shall begin by telling everyone how you have always been a daily part of me -- but that since your death I do think more about you (about us) every day -- that no amount of time will ever heal my grief, nor will it reduce my pain; or relieve me of my feeling that I failed to protect you – that I was unable to keep you safe or shield from the pain that you suffered during your bout with cancer. I will share with them that we honestly believed that you would beat this thing, and that for a brief while, we thought you did. I will further apprise them that I am compelled to share with them that I selfishly prefer you here with me, with us, rather than embrace the thought that you have gone off to some heavenly abode as many in this very audience would have me believe if only as comfort for my loss. Moreover, I shall declare that you were strong to the end -- that I shall desperately miss you -- and that I shall always love you. They also need to know how cheated I feel by life, that I am angry by what happened, and that I wish it were me instead of you. Finally, I shall communicate my need to always keep your spirit alive and ever-present, both in my mind as in my heart.

I will continue by sharing with this audience of our talk the day before your surgery (I can only pray that you will not mind) – if only to assure them of your hardiness, of your resolve to get better. How we talked, among many things, about how nervous and scared you were about the colotomy that would then be followed by a colostomy, and that you believed your very death was indeed possible. However, despite your fears, you attempted to reassure me that your expiration was not what frighten you most. Instead, your fear in dying was your concern for those you would be leaving behind, especially me. I remember how you paused then, and quietly asked me “if I could borrow your strength”. I vividly recollect my reply only because I found your request incredulous, and thus I said, “Hon, you are one of the strongest people I know -- you don’t need to borrow my strength, but if that is what you want, what you need, you ought to know that you have always had it. Therefore, please let us not talk of your passing, but rather of getting better, stronger – about coming home.” You then softly nodded in agreement, and gave me your response in a quiet voice that I shall never forget, “thank you for I do choose to live for there is much we have left to do -- but please do try to remember that life can end and that it can happen at any time.”

We then talked about family, particularly of Alex, Johnessa, Skylar and Jet, and how you sorely missed them; how broken-hearted you felt because you wanted so much to see them. I once again recalled, gently this time asking, “Nedi what do you really want for me to do? What would you want me to say to them?” You gave me that rare look of painful emotional truth and said “If something were to go terribly wrong, please tell them all how much I love them. And please don’t forget to tell them how much you love them as well. Then specifically to Skylar and Jet, say that I absolutely adore them, and that from wherever I may be, I shall be watching over them and guiding them from their very hearts.

Then turn to my sister, Carlos and Aurora and make sure you thank them for caring for me, for helping you to care for me, and that I have and will always continue to love them. And finally tell everyone we know that I love them as well and thank them all for caring…thank them all for being my friends. Tell them all that I am going home like in the song we both enjoy, Home Sweet Home.”

I, of course, refused to believe that you Nedi would not be coming home again, and now do regret not taking your request more seriously. I honestly believed that you not only would survive the surgery, but would also regain to a large extent your former strength through active rehabilitation. I am so sorry for my dismissiveness now. I realize and accept that I couldn’t foresee what ultimately did happen, but that is no excuse for not taking you seriously. So, my love, I hope this letter would serve not only as my apology, but also to satisfy your request since it is being read to those of us here. Further, I shall try to have it posted on-line for those others to read who could not be here.

Nedi, I won’t ever say that I will “move on.” You know how for me that is such a dismissive and disdainful cliché. Also, Nedi, you do know that I can never “move on” and just forget the 40 years that we have spent together. It’s just not possible; it’s just not me. Please rest assured that I do understand that this doesn’t mean that I won’t get on with my life – I shall live each day as it comes as you would want me to. However, I will always choose to tell the world that you meant a lot to me in so many ways. For example, you have always loved me, have always cared for me in sickness as in health, and have always supported me even when I have not been at my best. In other words, for 40 years you have been my best friend. Thus, I hope, no, rather I pray and trust that in reciprocity you feel that I also have always been there for you…particularly in the end.

Finally, as I sit here in front of the screen searching for more to say, I can’t help but wonder if this is the last letter that I shall ever write to you. Perhaps, it could be. I can’t say for sure. But know this: wherever you may be, whatever form you may take I shall never forget you or allow you to be forgotten. Most importantly, I shall let everyone know that I have and always will continue to love you.

Sincerely from your husband Ben.

* * * * * * * * * *

Enedia R. Hern, of Tampa, Florida passed away on Thursday July 11, 2019.

Enedia, who preferred to be known as Nedi by all who know and love her, was born to the late Oscar and Justa Rubio. She came to the United States in her youth, and began her life in America in New York City -- then relocated to New Jersey before moving to her final destination in Tampa to be closer to her loving family.

Nedi was married to Benjamin Hern on November 22, 1982. In total, the couple have been together for some 40 years. In addition to her husband, Nedi is survived by their son Alexander F. Hern, daughter-in-law, Johnessa, two beautiful grand children, Skylar and Jet, as well as her older siblings Silvia and Oscar Rubio.

As a highly educated woman, Nedi retired from Merrill Lynch after 40 years of service, where she eventually ascended to the distinguished position of Vice President, Margin and Compliance. Though retired, a determined and ambitious Nedi was not done with her time in the world of business. She went on to successfully launch the start-up concern English Rose Antiques, LLC with her husband Ben. Starting from scratch, the couple successfully developed a business principally focused on the buying and selling of antiques and oddities, as well as interior design and restoration services. They grew the business from a small 'mom and pop" shop started in Fair Haven, New Jersey into a profitable 10,000 square foot retail/service operation located in Red Bank, New Jersey -- just a short distance from their beautiful home in Holmdel. Nedi's other passions include cooking, gardening, knitting and reading.

Her husband pays this tribute to his tremendous lady: "Nedi is one of the most kindest, generous, loyal, ardent and loving person that you could have ever met -- and me fortunate enough to have married...she opened her heart and home to all -- never ever meeting a stranger, but always a friend. Nedi, my partner of 40 years, will be severely missed, but never forgotten."

A visitation for Enedia will be held Saturday, July 20, 2019 from 12:00 PM to 2:00 PM at Sylvan Abbey Funeral Home, 2853 Sunset Point Rd., Clearwater, Florida 33759. A funeral service will occur Saturday, July 20, 2019 from 2:00 PM to 3:00 PM, 2853 Sunset Point Rd., Clearwater, Florida 33759. A committal service will occur Saturday, July 20, 2019 from 3:00 PM to 3:30 PM at Sylvan Abbey Memorial Park, 2860 Sunset Point Rd., Clearwater, Florida 33759. A burial will occur at Sylvan Abbey Memorial Park, 2860 Sunset Point Rd., Clearwater, Florida 33759.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.sylvanabbey.com for the Hern family.