Maria Nieves Yriarte

Maria de las Nieves Sofia Diez Villayandre de la Puente Barrio, my mother, my best friend, my confidant, and my rock of Gibraltor was born on December 19, 1913 in Carmenes in the province of Leon, Spain. She was the strongest woman I have ever known.

Born to Elvira Villayandre Barrio and Santos Diez de la Puente, she was the second oldest and sole survivor of eleven children. That, in and of itself, demonstrates just how powerful and strong she was. But my mom was much more than a survivor—she accomplished more in her life than most people could do in two lifetimes.

Put simply: my mom was a workaholic. She worked (or tried to) until the very day she died. She would always tell me, “Yo quiero, pero no puedo.” I want to do it, but I can’t.

From the age of ten until sixteen, she was a nanny for a family in Madrid, Spain. From then until her early 30s, she worked for many families as a cook, a nanny, and household helper. She was so good at what she did that she was recommended by a family to the Spanish consulate in New York City. So at 35, she got her “big break” to come to the land of opportunity. After working with the consulate for one year, she was asked to relocate with them to San Francisco, where she would soon meet her future husband, Juan Yriarte, at the Basque Hotel.

While dating, my mom and dad would frequent San Francisco’s North Beach, Ocean Beach, and go to many picnics. They were an active and social couple who often double-dated, especially with their friends Pura and Tony. In fact, their daughter, Marie, is here today.

She could definitely kick loose, but throughout it all, my mom never lost her strong work ethic. Before my brother and I were born, she and my dad went into business together running the Hotel Obrero, or the Worker Hotel, for ten years. My mom was the cook and the cleaner for seventeen guests. Every day she would make them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all while maintaining the cleanliness of the whole hotel. On the weekends, she also served outside guests, which often doubled the amount of customers. Her homemade dinners consisted of soups, spaghetti, lentils, legumes, pork chops, chicken, roast beef with vegetables, mashed potatoes, salads, coffee, wine, bread, cheese, and fruit. On Sundays there was cake. All this for $1.50! It sounds like a lot of work, but they must have been having fun because two years later, I showed up. If my mom wasn’t working hard enough before, having an infant certainly added new challenges. But just like her, she accepted those challenges with open arms. I guess she thought she didn’t have enough work to do, so two years after me, my brother Frank came along as a permanent guest of The Hotel Obrero.

No matter how many obligations my mom took on, Frank and I were always her first priority. We were the apples of her eye. Every day, she made sure we were fed delicious and nutritious meals, bathed, groomed, and clothed with immaculate, handmade, perfectly ironed clothing. Where she found time to make clothing for us, I’ll never know! I remember so vividly a treat she used to give us so we wouldn’t become iron- deficient. It was dish of cooked, mashed chicken liver and Carnation milk. It sounds gross but we liked it.

My mom was more than a provider. Aside from teaching us good nutrition and personal hygiene, she taught us the importance of being the best people we could be. That meant teaching us about honesty, compassion, sensitivity, generosity, empathy, responsibility, and good work ethic. As a family we were constantly helping members of the family in need. My mom didn’t just tell us to do things, she showed us by example. Though she was always teaching us values to live by, she really only wanted us to be happy.

After selling the hotel, we all picked up and moved to Redwood City. My mom was a happy homemaker, but that didn’t mean she was doing less work! She worked tirelessly every day, keeping the house immaculate and cooking up a storm with homemade soups, spring, summer, fall, and winter. She was an avid gardener, always pruning, mowing the lawn, and taking care of her beloved roses. You’d never find a leaf on our lawn. If the house needed repairs, she would refuse to call a handyman or worker and take the jobs on herself. She was so stubborn that even if the house needed a whole new paint job, she would be right outside on the ladder until the job was done. Let’s just say, things at our house were done Mom’s way. She simply knew no one would do it as well as she would.

I want to share with you one of my favorite stories about my mom that we tell often and some of you may already know. One day when she was 95, during one of my regular visits I noticed several bags of pears around the kitchen. I asked her, “Where did these pears come from?” She replied, “I got up on the ladder and picked them this morning.” I almost died. I sternly told her, “You could have injured yourself, or worse yet, killed yourself.” Her reply was nonchalant: “Oh, accidents happen. If it was my destiny it was my destiny.” Still steaming, I went straight to the back yard, put the ladder in my car, and drove off. I returned the next day only to find more bags of pears. You can imagine my chagrin. I said, “Mom! How did you pick these pears?!?” She very calmly replied, “Oh, I had an extra ladder in the garage.” I said, “You have GOT to promise me this will be the very last time this will happen.” She simply said, “I promise. I promise.........................until the next crop.”

Say what you will about her stubbornness, but my mom got things done. It was her strength, her determination, and her refusal to wait for anyone that guided and shaped her life. Ninety-five years old, and my mom was still climbing ladders.

She was a spitfire, a pistol until her very last day. She always got what she wanted. When we would ask if she needed anything during the time she was in the hospital and rehabilitation facility, she would constantly answer, “To go home.” She was always saying, “I’ve been in here long enough. Today’s the day I go home.” We couldn’t take her home then, but as things progressed in her last days, I knew it was the right thing. It was only fitting that my mom’s last wish was granted. She knew she was leaving us, but she was going to do it on her terms, peacefully, in her bedroom, surrounded by all of her loved ones but not until her granddaughters, Natalia and Alesandra whom she adored and would do anything for them had finished giving her a foot and hand massage.

My mom was completely lucid until the day before her death, when she told everyone she loved them and thanked them for coming to see her. She also told me, “Te amo,” and thanked me for being the most wonderful daughter and told me how much she appreciated everything I had done for her. Hearing her say to all of her visitors, with her cute scratchy laryngitis-affected voice, “Te amo” and “Gracias” was so sad, yet so very moving and sweet.

I want to thank you all for being here with us to show your love and support. A very very special thank you to my mother’s full-time caregiver of two years, Socorro who gave her the best of care. Everyday she would juice fresh beets, celery, carrots, green apples and fresh oranges. This kept mom well for a long time and to my mother’s Sunday caregiver and substitute, Rosa. Mom loved her homemade pupusas and to Dinora who watched mom for a short time with such gentle care. I give the GREATEST thank you to my beloved mother for making me the woman that I am today. As my mom would say in her Spanish accent and broken English, “Thank you too much.” “Mama siempre te amare con todo mi corazon.” “Mom I will always love you with all my heart.”