Although I live in Fort Collins, I feel like I know Ester.  The things I know are that she was a strong, independent person who loved her family and who raised wonderful children.  I know Ester through her son, Pete. It has been my pleasure to learn more, though your eulogy, about Ester and your family and friends.  What great support you have had.  Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your extended "family" for a short while. It was my honor. 
Emmalie Conner, Northern Colorado Regional Director Alzheimer's Association

Pete and Ariel and families:

We send you our most respectful condolences on the passing of your mom, a lady that I considered my friend. She was always so happy and I want to remember her that way. I really did admire her. She was a true lady and I will always have good memories of her.

Eulogy for Ester Longoria Ramirez
given by her son Pedro Ramirez, Jr. on June 28, 2010.

I would like to thank you, the community of Encino, for your concern over the well-being of my mother when she lived alone, for what you did for her, big and small, for making her smile. Thank you Connie and Roel for helping my mom, for taking her to LaVernia to visit Ariel and Sonia and the girls. Lula, thank you for being there for my mom.  You enjoyed making her laugh. Your phone calls were invaluable to me.

Imelda, thank you for giving my mom your friendship and for driving her to the Valley 2 million 5 hundred and fifty-five times. To my mom, going to the Valley was what going to Disneyland is to others. 

Pete Rodriguez, your mom was our second mom just as my mom was yours. You are my brother, you have always been there for my mother. You remind me of my dad, always helping others in the community. 

I remember one incident with my mom. She was having some legal papers delivered to her home. The sender called and asked me if my mom was going to be home for the delivery. I called my mom on the phone and asked her and she said that she was going to be home and had no plans to go anywhere. One hour later I get a call from the sender, â€œthe delivery man is there and no one is answering the door.â€  I called Pete to go check. I was worried. Mom said she would be there. Pete had to jump the fence as the gate was closed and locked. The garage door was closed suggesting that my mom was not home. He looked through the garage window and her car was in the garage. He assumed she was home. He knocked on all the doors and windows. No answer. He called me back. We were both worried sick that something had happened to mom inside the house. I then suggested to Pete that maybe mom had gone somewhere with someone else. Pete made several calls to find out. He then contacted Jonathan Cuellar, my uncleâ€™s grandson. Jonathan told Pete that my mom had gone to Kingsville with my tio Shando and tia Olivia. The experience forced us to rethink contingency measures in the event that something did happen to my mom at her home.

Thank you mom for giving me life, for never giving up on me.  I was born two months premature.  I weighed two pounds.  They took me to the hospital in Kingsville. â€œYa te comian las hormigas.â€ (The ants almost ate you.) I canâ€™t remember how many times I heard that story growing up. It was later after I finished college that my mother revealed that my grandmother advised her and my dad not to go visit me at Kingsville, not to get attached to me.  You see, my grandmother believed I would not make it.  My mom never gave up on me. I am what I am, good and bad, because of my mother. Thank you mom.
  
Seventeen years ago the last words my father spoke prior to his death were direct and simple, â€œcuida ha tu mama.â€  (Take care of your mom.) I guess my dad underestimated my mother. This past winter, PBS aired a documentary on the histories of several families, including the Longoria family.  In this series, Irma Longoria Cavazos, was asked by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. to describe the Longoria family in one word.  â€œSurvivors,â€ she answered.

Survivor captures my motherâ€™s life.  She was born in 1929, the year the Great Depression began. She survived the death of her father Juan, who died at a young age. She survived the hard work in the fields of her familyâ€™s ranch in La Mesa.  They grew their own food.  If you did not work, you basically went hungry. There was no Super Wal-Mart to go to back then.

My mother met my dad at Las Cuatas Ranch. She would accompany my grandmother when they would go visit her aunt Maria Longoria who was married to Lucas Ramirez. My mom said she remembers seeing my dad on a horse. Little did she know at the time that she was seeing her future husband and guardian angel.

My dad never wavered from his commitment to my mother. He was there for her through good times and bad for 46 years.  When my dad left us suddenly and unexpectedly, it was inconceivable for me to picture my mom living alone without my dad. â€œDiosito me cuida,â€ she would tell us.  (God will protect me.) Her faith was unshakeable.

â€œCuida ha tu mama,â€ were my dadâ€™s last words. Dad, Ester did a pretty good job of taking care of herself.  Being a Longoria means youâ€™re not only a survivor but stubborn as well. After my dad passed away, mom kept his cows. Ernesto, Ariel, and I expressed concern that those large cows would injure her. â€œVende las vacas,â€ we would tell her.  (Sell the cows.) She would hear none of it. Ariel you suffered the brunt of helping mom with those stupid vacas.  She cared for those cows and eventually sold them, in her own time, when she was ready to let go of the young man on the horse from Las Cuatas.

We all have our own stories and memories of Ester. She was a hard worker. She loved being outdoors and loved her flowers.

I wish I had written down all the words that my mom invented. When she did not know the correct word, she would create one. My favorite â€œEster wordâ€ I remember well. Her granddaughter Mickey was about 4 or 5 years old. Mickeyâ€™s mother had gone into the church and grandpa, grandma, and I waited with Mickey in the car. Mickey kept telling grandma that she wanted to go with her mom. Grandma Ester said, â€œNo Mickey, donâ€™t go because youâ€™ll be estorbing.â€ (Estorbando is Spanish for hindering or being a nuisance). 

My mother always wanted a daughter but never had one. She was outnumbered, 5 to 1: Ariel, Ernesto, and me. Ernesto was 3 for the price of one. If you knew Ernesto, you know exactly what I mean.  Although she had no daughters of her own, Ariel more than made up for it by giving her 4 granddaughters. Neto and I each provided one. My mother loved all her grandchildren. She was and is very proud of all of you. You all have accomplished things that she probably never could even imagine when she was your age.

My mother was never afraid of living alone. â€œDiosito me cuida,â€ she would tell us. We would ask her to move closer to us but she would hear none of it. My brothers and I agonized over this. We could not understand why she would not leave her house. To us it was just a house. 

Now I understand her desire to stay. To her it was not just a house. It was a sense of place, of belonging. To her, it was a home, a place for her family to come home to, a refuge.

When I learned about Alzheimerâ€™s, I learned that it was best to keep mom in her home as long as possible, as long as it was safe. Moving her would have accelerated the progression of the disease.  It was an enormous risk, especially with her driving as most of you know.  Ariel and I agonized over what to do about her driving.

Imelda, you made it possible for my mother to stay at her house. Without you driving her to the Valley, she would not have been able to buy her groceries and run her errands.  But more importantly, you gave her friendship. I think all those trips were more than just a need to go get groceries. It was a need for companionship.

It has been a long journey, caring for my mom from one thousand miles away. I remember the daily phone calls. â€œMijito, mate una vibora de cascabel!â€ (My son, I killed a rattlesnake!) My mother had a great guardian angel. It was the young man on the horse from Las Cuatas. I believe it was my dad. â€œCuida ha tu mamaâ€ was his last request. You did fine dad. And mom did great too; she was a Longoria, a survivor. Diosito te cuida mom. I love you.

Pete and Ariel and families.  Wow how time does get past us.  I was sorry to hear about your Mom.  My Mom called and notified me just a few days after we had visited Encino and I had asked about your Mom.  You are in our thoughts and prayers.  Homero (Elaine and Emilio) Bayarena, Mount Airy, MD

Pete and Ariel and your families... 
I cannot find the words to fully express my condolences and feelings on the passing of your Mom, whom I always considered my second Mom as well.  She was such a loving and caring person and a fully devoted mother to all of you and such a wonderful wife to your Dad Pedro.  The rush of memories about her and all the times spent with her are just too numerous but they are such a delight to think back on.  As we spoke on Sunday..Pete.. I agree that she is sitting around the table with not only your Dad and her parents and his, but with Ernesto, your Tios and Tias and also my Mom and Dad and our sister and brothers who have gone before us.  What a wonderful reunion!  Please accept my most heartfelt condolences and may the good Lord guide all of you and console you as your grieving process continues.  We will always remember her and have her in our hearts as a truely lovely and wonderful person.  God Bless You Mom Esther and Rest in Peace.
With Love,
Mario (Isabel) Rodriguez
Premont/Encino, Tx.

OBITUARY

Mrs. Ester Longoria Longoria Ramirez

May 5, 1929 – June 26, 2010

Funeraria del Angel Howard-Williams

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