(Note: Since Dec. 31 of 2012, I have been keeping a daily diary, a journal expressing my feelings of that particular day and/or commentary about something I saw or something that happened to me. Perhaps it will get published someday, this effort chronicling my 61st year of life. Perhaps not. Either way, here is my entry from July 23.)
When a relative or friend is dying, you don’t want the phone to ring at 2:30 in the morning. Today it did. Tendecare Nursing Home called to tell us that Maria Infante, born Aug. 14, 1924, passed away at 2:30 in the morning on July 23, 2013. Yes it was expected, but no, it doesn’t feel good. It never does. Illy (my wife) mmediately got up, got dressed and left for Tendercare, leaving me with the thankless job of calling my children at around 7 this morning as I was on my way to work. This is the third of their four grandparents to pass away, a luxury I never had. I believe I was a lad of just eight when my mom’s mom passed away. The other three grandparents had preceded her in death even before I was born, so I only got to get to know the one — well, get to know is kind of the wrong term because I really don’t remember a lot of what happened in my eight years on this earth.
The boys took the news reasonably well. Corey said that when mom called him last night and told him abuelita’s extremeties were getting cold, he had already prepacked the kids’ suitcases. Now, he will have to throw together stuff in their suitcases, ask for a couple of extra days of leave time and drive up here. I think they were leaving this morning already. Ryan was a little more vocal, but then, he can be a little more emotionally passionate about things than the other two boys. In that way, he’s a lot like me. Not that the other boys don’t share any of my traits — Geoff loves music and birds and Corey LOVES baseball. Yes, I shed a few tears before I finally got back to sleep, but I also said a little prayer for my wife, her brother and sister, and any of the other people whose lives were touched by Maria Josefa Rubio-Cubilla Infante. That includes me.
We will miss you Mami. All of us.