4 years today and it still hurts like it was yesterday. We love you mama.

Tía, 
Septiembre 6 2020
fue la última ves que te mire y platicamos abajo tu árbol. Quien iba saber que ese día iba ser el ultimo
Desde que fuistes nunca olvidado nuestra ultimo platica. Y desde que fuistes me puse las pilas
Y gracias a dios recibir hoy las mejores noticias 
Y yo se que desde arriba me es estado ayudando tía
Gracias tía. Ya no te preocupes por mi 
Ya vamos estar bien gracias .


No one tells you how to keep going when your world collapses around you.   The last part of this year is approaching and yet the beginning of it will be the only part it will be remembered for, for as long as we live.  

It is the most inevitable part of life, yet the most unprepared for.   No matter the amount of preparation we make, our affairs, our arrangements, when the time comes to pass, we do not want to go; or at least we did not want you to go.  

Since then, this is what we've done Maria.  We have immersed ourselves with work.   The business has been doing so well.  Joel makes all the dashboards, and Karla sells them all.  She also makes sure his stomach is full so he has the energy to do it.  Ana has been making food that reminds all of us of you.  She has one more recipe to make.  I'm sure you will be with her as you always have, when she tries to make them.  You would be so proud of her.  Elena is now working at Kaiser hospital and she is probably the only one doing her job the right way.  Diana is making sure Joel does not have to worry about his medicine and appointments or his clothes being washed, or his bedroom being clean, taking care of Walker.  She also had two movie nights outside for all of us.  They were wonderful movie nights.   Chico handles everything else in between and makes sure the house is taken care of with Joshua... even though Chico does everything different from Joel and they make fun of each other.  Either way, the house that you built... still stands. 
As for me, every night before bed,  I ponder about my own mortality and that of everyone else I love and wonder what will happen to me when I go.  My answer is, I do not know but can only hope I leave behind something as beautiful and everlasting as you did.  

P.S. - tus nietas te extrañan mucho.

April 21, 2021
Happy birthday Mama, today you would have turned 61 years old and I am sad that I did not get to kiss you, hug you, and wish you a happy birthday in person. I love you and miss you with all my heart mom ♥️. I hope you are enjoying your birthday in heaven and I can’t wait to see you again when my time on earth is done. I hope you enjoyed the letters with the balloons attached to them, in n out, your cake, and your new decorations. Although it was a very sad day I’m sure you are happy that we were all together to celebrate birthdays together like we always do. You are the rock to our family and I know you are still watching over us. Life is not the same without you mama, but we are taking it day by day. I hope you blew out your candles and made a wish. I love you and happy birthday mama! Love Elena and Elvis 

I feel like Deeds in Mr. DEEDS going after Al Sharpton, thanks Joseph no wonder you had a blog. 
Josie Geller once said  that to write well, you have to write what you know. 
This is what I know. 
 In a world were over two million people have lost their lives to Covid-19. I never imagined I would lose someone close to me. When I received the call that my aunt was hospitalized, I was not worried because my aunt was healthy and full of life. At her age, she still managed to get low when she danced the twist. Also, she would eat Caldo (with the vitamins) in 100-degree weather and grew up drinking rancho water. While my aunt loved all her nieces and nephews, I know, and she knows, I was her favorite. It's been over a month, and I still get sad and begin to cry when I think about her passing. For the rest my life I will always think about my aunt when I eat tacos de Buche, burritos De papas con chorizo, and when I listen to Joan Sebastian. I will always feel close to her, when I’m in my kitchen. I will always cherish the last time I saw her.I had a bucket of mojaras she asked me if I was going to fry them. I told her no and told her how I prepare them. She said sounds good, I will have to try it. The next week, we got to her house and she told me 
Lizbeth muy buenas las mojaras. I couldn’t believe she actually liked a recipe I told her to make. You see my aunt was the best at cooking. She was my top chef. I will miss you tia. Don’t worry I will always keep in touch with my cousins. I will be there to sing alrururu. I will make sure that Elena parties have decorations. Till we see each other again for we can dance Juana La cubana.

Muy buena persona. La China es la tía de mi esposa. Siempre cuando llegábamos a su casa o puesto de swap meet siempre me recibio con sus abrazo abiertos 
Ella siempre me conseguía trabajo de afuera poner un piso areglar una luz 
Siempre me disea que alga mis tarjetas para gara mas trabajo. Y por ella deje mi trabajo y voy a abrir mi propio negocio de plomer y eletrisita. Siempre la voy recordar 

My wife and her mother enjoying an afternoon exchanging laughs in between questions about making tortillas from scratch.  A recipe and method passed down from her mother and now to her daughter.   A cherish-able moment.  An eternal one now.   This was December 29th, 2020 and unbeknownst to either of them, it would be the last time a moment like this would be shared by the two.  A month later, Maria Saldaña, the mother of my wife, would pass away from the virus that has consumed the lives and families of millions around the world.  There is no silver lining here.  There are no words of solace that would make it seem as if she reached the pinnacle of her life.   There was more to do.  Now we’re left here with recipes unshared.  Laughs now unheard.  Smiles unseen.  Embraces unheld.  Future grandchildren to be taken care of and be taught Spanish and food cooked hand in hand together for them to learn about their heritage and traditions.  These are the moments of immeasurable love that we wont be able to make and share with her anymore.  It is this yearning for these moments that we can no longer make, that we grieve.  It’s been said grief is the final act of love as it is the most enduring and everlasting.  I think it is just the beginning.  It isn’t something you push through and be better on the other side.  It consumes you and it becomes a part of you.  You adjust.  You accept.  You become someone... differently the same.  As if you were pulled apart and put back together but with pieces missing.  That’s what life is really.  Loss.  She once told me, “Joseph. Where there’s life, there is hope.”It is all seemingly irrelevant now that her life has ended.  But I think I understand.   Our lives, I hope, will be a testament to hers.  To continue the traditions she held in such high regard.  The recipes she did pass down.  The stories she did tell.  And the moments we are yet to make; with her watching over us.  We hope we can make you proud, Mom.  





I remember and always will remember my mother as the person who welcomed everyone to her home. Many of you who will read this will know that she cared about you, that she cared and raise many of you, not just her kids, she let you stay and live in our house until you were on your feet. I will remember that she loved to play lotería and during New Years 2021 she showed us the original lotería cards that she had bought, that she used to play with as a child. She loved scary movies, and eating popcorn and she loved to dance. Her and my dad even won trophies for dancing. I will remember the scary stories that she used to tell us, and I will remember how curious she was about the planets and how we laughed when she asked, “where is planet earth,” as she looked to the sky. Maybe she was already looking for the planet from heavens door. And yes, I will always remember the taste and smell of the best tamales that you and I have ever tasted. I love you mom, I hope you knew how much we did love you and I think you got to see it this past summer when we finally built your dream kitchen. Can’t wait to see you again. 

Growing up Maria was my sister and my second mama, even if she didn't want to be lol.. If our parents could not find us, we were definitely at the Saldana's house. 

There was a big language barrier when we where children, I'm pretty sure a lot of times she would be yelling at Diana for something we got into or messed up.

 Maria never ever made us feel unwelcomed or as if we where in her way. She was either in the kitchen cooking something amazing, her tamales or those fried tortillas with surgar and cinnamon (my two favorites) 😋 or she would be in the garage working on sewing.
A few times I would wake up super early and Joel and Maria would take us to the swap meet with them. 

My last memory of her was  on Christmas day at my parents house, we were outside with the kids and Maria walked over to give us 2 big bags of kettlecorn popcorn (just because). I would of never thought that would be the last time I would see her. 

Thank you Maria for being such a big part of my childhood. May you rest in heaven ❤

🥺 I love you tia you are & forever will be the best 
Don’t have much to say everytime I try typing I just begin to tear up thinking of you & all the amazing memories 🙏🏼 God is great 

OBITUARIO

Maria Elena Saldana

21 abril, 1960 – 29 enero, 2021

Pierce Brothers Crestlawn Memorial Park and Mortuary

Muestre su apoyo

Comparta Un Recuerdo

Comparta
Un Obituario

Obtenga actualizaciones

Servicios