Caridad Cachita Monterroso Menendez

It does not matter whether your mother is 34, 64, or 94 … you are never quite ready for this moment. You think you are, you have prepared… but the truth is that you are never ready. But, what keeps me going and what gives a sense of peace is that I was a good son and that I did the best I could to make her happy and to keep her safe.

But, I wasn’t alone… because as the saying goes; if it takes a village to raise a child; it takes a town to take care of an older person. My town has a number of people; good people, people who helped me along the route.

My town starts with Penny; the daughter my mother never had; who gave up so much of our time so that I could spent time with her. So many vacations not taken; so many days spent by herself with me away. Penny who took care of my mother in ways that I could never have done.

My children Scott and Kelly, who always made her smile, she was so proud of them, they were the apple of her eyes. Kelly who made her job to bring Abuela “In n Out Burgers” or “Pollo Loco” on those rare occasions that we manage to leave town for a day or two. She would bring her dinner and drag along any of her Spanish speaking friend, their mothers and sometimes grandmothers to sit with my mom and entertained her.

Then there my cousins; Adela, Amarilis and Rae who would call my mom every day or every other day to listen to the same story she had told them the day before. Or be bored to death as my mom would tell them, time and time again, what a great son I was.

My Aunt Maria would encourage my mom to be happy and take her medicine; sharing the time that only two sisters can share.

Pat Duncan, our lifelong friend who would advise me about her medical condition or share her experiences of her own parents… she would always end our conversation by saying; “hang in there buddy we are praying for you”

Dr. Ponhold who visited my mother every week and always told her; “how is my beautiful lady, you are looking great today” This in itself is better than any medicine that he could have prescribed. It always made her feel good when he came.

All my friends who advised me, held my hand or prayed for me and with me.

Then there is Teresa; my mother’s caregiver one of the most beautiful people we have ever met. Their relation went beyond patient-care giver it was more a mother-daughter love. But it wasn’t always like that; at the beginning Teresa left three times saying he was never coming back; and my mom asked her to leave a few times. I would hear stories from both sides; Teresa would tell me; your mother said ….. your mother did …… And my mom would tell me; Teresa does not clean; Teresa does not cook well. Me I took the diplomatic (or maybe the coward’s) road and did not mettle and let them work things out… and they did …. In time they grew very close and loved each other very much. At the hospital as my mother was passing, she always recognized Teresa’s voice and turned towards her. She took care of my mom with love and dignity. There are no words that I can ever use to express our gratitude for what you did.

Now, we have spoken about many people but we haven’t talked about the person that brings us here today. My mom, Penny’s mima, Scott and Kelly’s Abuela and Tia Cachita to the rest of the family. She stood 4’10/ maybe 120 pounds on a good day.. small in stature but could make grown people tremble (specially my dad and I). She was not educated but understood life. A great cook, whose recipes are making their way through not only my family (the Cuban side) but also through Penny’s side as my nephew Mark and my niece Katie have taken a stab at making Frijoles Negros. She lives on.

She was a simple person who needed only two things in life to make things better; a prayer and a bottle of milk of Magnesia. The prayer was used to keep the spirit free, flowing and loose; the milk of Magnesia did pretty much the same for another part of the body. With those two things in line, life was wonderful.

We came to the U.S. in May 17th, 1958 together to meet my dad… he caught a cold at the airport and got very sick. So here we are mother and son, not knowing the language, the area or anyone out looking for medicine and groceries … we learned to walk in straight lines and at right angles…. Luckily my Uncle Ralph showed about midnight a couple of days later with groceries and medicine. We also discovered that NY was full of Puerto Ricans that spoke just like us. She began to cook and we began a new life… and we were happy.

In her later years we became closer, especially when she moved to Bellflower. When I was younger I was busy with a career and raising a family; as she got older and I got older we began to have more time together and I really got to know her. Teresa took care of her Monday-Friday and I became the weekend shift. Sunday were a little rushed as I had to get to 9:30 mass, but Saturdays were more laid back and we had more time. This is when I would cook an egg, bacon, toast and freshly squeezed orange juice breakfast. And we would talk and chat over coffee. Carlos good son.

I also found out that she had a very different reasoning system. It was a simple system really; she was right and I was wrong; the few times that I might prove to her that I might be right she would conclude the discussion with a simple; “shut up stupid”

One day I called her and said’ Mom I’m coming over at 5:00 and I will bring you dinner” she told me that she was not hungry “I had a gigantic lunch” .. so happened that something came up and I did not get there until 6:00 … I found her sitting in her chair arms crossed and saying to me “Now you get here, I haven’t eaten anything” I said; “Are you hungry?”.. she said No… so I said what is the difference what time I get here? She looked at me went back to her “novella” and said; “Shut up stupid”

Another time I was taking her to the doctor in WLA and traffic was very bad.. she was telling me how to drive (from a woman that never drove a day in her life) while saying; “your father always took the 405, the 405 is a much better freeway. Where are we?” And I said, “on the 405” … again she looked at me and said; “shut up stupid”

I always called every morning about 8:00 am, this one morning she was telling me that her stomach was hurting and I told her to tell Dr. Ponhold who was coming later that morning. When I called at noon to find out how she was doing, I inquirer if she had talked to the doctor and she said No… when I asked “why not” she told me that it was not hurting then. I said; “oh is one of those pains that is only for me, not when Dr. Ponhold is there” Again she said; “shut up stupid”

Another time when I was there, she complained of a back pain, as I fixed lunch she said she could not eat as her stomach hurt… I said, oh is one of those movable pains that travels around the body…… once gain she said; “shut up stupid”

So went our time together.

But I also learned about a mother’s love; remembering a story; when I was about 5-6 years old we moved into a very old house. Rumor had it that it was haunted; the kids in the neighborhood would delight in telling me stories of floating heads and dragging chains. When I walked through the house I was always on guard. One night as I slept in my room, I saw a floating leg and foot… and started screaming. My parents came into my room and my father as we fathers are supposed to do, tried to logically explain to me that what I had seen was a reflection of his leg in the hall mirror. He said his leg hurt and he had draped it over a chair to rest it and that is what I saw. My mother simply said’ “come sleep in our room” A Mother’s love.

A couple of years later I was very sick and was in the hospital for a month.. she stayed with me every night, my aunts Maria and Esperanza tried to relief her a couple of nights and stay with me… but she absolutely refused. A mother’s love.

One of the last times that I took her to emergency, I had been sleeping in her apartment and she was getting sicker and sicker, so about 2:00 am I said “Mom, I’m going to dress you and we are going to the hospital” … So I got dressed, put a coat on her wrapped in a blanket and placed her on the wheelchair to wheel her to the car. It was a miserable night, cold, drizzling and lonely … it was just the two of us. As I wheeled her to the car, she was weak and her head was down… but she looked up and said; “my son do you have a jacket on? don’t catch a cold, don’t get sick” Wow! She was worried about me in spite of her condition. A mother’s love.

Don’t stop celebrating Christmas, is still a happy time… God just said “have Christmas with your family one last time, then I need you here”

For those of you who had the privilege of knowing her and those of you who learned about her today…. I say to you; make sure you walk the straight and narrow and make sure you don’t over talk and say too much, above all stay on the 405 …. If not, somewhere you will hear a voice that will tell you; “shut up stupid” ……………. Pretty much what I’m hearing now.