I was at breakfast with my brother who was visiting Bacalar a few years ago. At my favorite morning haunt I realized that I was sitting in the exact same seat where I last sat with my friend Gabriel before his heart attack and I lost him in my life.
My eldest brother.
Overwhelmed with emotions I began to cry. My brother responded by directing me to look him in the eye and breathe.
Gabriel his last day.
I realized in that moment that Ken was trying to get me to STOP crying. I told him that I was fine with expressing my feelings and didn’t need to stop. He looked at me confused. “I cannot relate.”
Sadly, I think most men and my brother in particular spend a lifetime trying to control feelings. To a degree, so do I.
During Covid, I found myself crying for no apparent reason and it scared me. I managed to get my joy back, which brings us to today.
Covid art.
Why are we so embarrassed by tears? I’ve worked for these emotions and I embrace them.
This week Dolly Parton died. The global tributes, playing her songs and buildings all over the world lit up in pink, had me sobbing.
Empire State Building 9:25
The world lost a great woman this week. If only we could all be a little more like Dolly, sniff.
We got a message this week that knew was coming, just not when. My niece died after a long battle with brain cancer. We were making plans to go see her when we got the message from my brother, “she’s gone”. She had contracted Covid but seemed better. Then when no one was looking she slipped away quietly. She was 46.
2016 There are no words.
I remember when she was born. My brother and sister-in- law had a son. I had a daughter and then they had Raegan. All three cousins were less than a year apart, each from the next. Raegan Mercedes was such a cool name.
1977 the day before Raegan was born. Her very pregnant mom on the left, assorted brothers, and my mother in the center. I am on the right. We were all so young.
To say she was smart was an understatement. A Doctorate in Human Factors Psychology.
Raegan had worked on systems to effectively integrate technology for the US military. She was our whiz kid and fascinating to talk to. Even as her vision deteriorated from the pressure of the tumor, she worked with the local county agency to give feedback on how to help people with visual disabilities navigate their transportation system. Our hearts break with the loss of her.
The last time Lisa and I got to hang out with Raegan was Thanksgiving 2022. We were in Florida with my brother, her dad and other family members. One afternoon we walked the few blocks to the highway where there was a large sex store.
Sadly they closed the end of 2023.
Only Raegan with her lesbian aunts would walk the store aisles laughing uncontrollably at enormous wobbly dildos, penis lollipops, edible underwear and a huge variety of vibrators. I smile at the memory (not of the dildos).
Animals helped her so much.
There is so much more I could say, but it all makes me sad. Hug each other, be kind to strangers, take care of yourself, laugh and hug puppies. Especially puppies, and goats, and pigs, for Raegan.
Two years ago we adopted Stela, a blind pug. I had never been around a pug and had a lot to learn about their quirky nature. One skill she has is to be asleep on the couch, snoring loudly and on her feet a moment later when someone says one of the magic words, outside, potty, snacks, or walk. She’s a zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye kind of gal. Sometimes life is like that too.
Stela loves her pillow.
Last weekend I was blissfully returning from kayaking on Lake Bacalar, Mexico,where we live. I was anticipating the week leading up to my seventieth birthday, and in one misstep, I was sailing off the dock, landing on a pile of rocks, and screaming for my life. No bones were broken but doctor’s orders has me off my feet for 2-4 weeks. Zero to a hundred, but not in a good way.
I fell to the left of the kayak.
On Tuesday, our housekeeper of six years announced that she is pregnant with baby number five and could no longer work for us. While we completely understand it is the loss of a relationship that we were totally unprepared for. As much as I think that the people who work for us are not friends, the flood of tears said something different.
The husband of a friend and former neighbor from Texas lost his battle with cancer on top of the loss of our dear friend Suze the week before (Death Knocks) also to cancer.
On Sunday Lisa went to a celebration of life for her dear poker buddy Steve who died suddenly from Hepatitis C two years ago. He was a good guy.
Steve, Lisa’s Bacalar poker buddy and our friend.
I guess the only way we can be prepared for loss is to live every day fully. Many people don’t make it to seventy. I have a feeling that sadness and gratitude are a part of the aging process no one much talks about. I think fondly of Delmy, Troy, Suze and Steve as I grieve their loss. As for me, I think youth is vastly overrated. My bruised body will heal. None of us will ever be younger than we are right this minute, so enjoy today, live life to the fullest and above all be grateful.
DOS TORTAS
AFTER YOU DIE Just so you know after you die I will not wonder why you didn’t do your dishes or how long it’s been since you cleaned your oven or microwave or mopped your floors or why there were dust bunnies under the bed and behind the door
After you’re gone I will not wonder how you could have allowed the piles of old mail to accumulate or why you saved so many bits and pieces of this and that or why you weren’t more goal-oriented and well-organized or why your refrigerator contained so many expired condiments
When you are absent from all your familiar places I vow to avoid wondering why you didn’t eat less and exercise more or why you waited so long to stop smoking or drinking or whatever else was simultaneously soothing and deadly or why you took whatever risk may seem to have hastened your exit or why you left so much unsaid unfinished or unresolved
I will only wonder if you knew how much you mattered to me just as you are as you were when we met in our temporary human disguises and laughed in the dressing room of the world at how funkily our skin suits fit at times
I will wonder and hope you knew you were beloved
I will wonder when we last hugged and whether you felt how our heartbeats converged and our bellies bumped like boats and then we both sighed
This week my mother’s two brothers died. Uncle Bill was 96 and died of Covid. Uncle Jack was 100 and had been hanging on for a month after a stroke. We have good genes in my mother’s family.
My Uncle and me, Celebrating his 50th Wedding Anniversary
I was supposed to be in Atlanta in April to celebrate Jack’s 100th birthday. I had a flight and was excited to see my six cousins and their children and THEIR children. Covid hit and everything closed, especially nursing homes. We celebrated via Zoom. Jack looked amazing and I was sure he had a few more years in him. Once he had a stroke, that was it. He lost his sense of taste and quit eating. Fifty pounds fell off in a matter of days. He went almost a month without eating. A full military funeral is planned for this decorated war hero.
Jack and Irene at my baptism
He was my godfather and called me Alley-oop. I so wish I were telling stories with my cousins. Grieving over Zoom doesn’t quite cut it.
Bill, Bernice (my mother) and Jack
My Uncle Bill is a whole other story. He was in prison in Florida, a convicted felon, child molester. Many of my family will say, “good riddance “. He had been in prison almost eight years and would have been there for life, as he was. When I was in college in Mexico in 1974, he showed up without warning at the house where I lived. I was shocked to say the least. He loved Mexico and had arrived asking around the college until he found me. It was no small feat.
Disneyland with my granddaughter.
This week I stepped into the next generation. There are definitely things about aging that I’m not all that thrilled with. But for the most part I’m good. We think we will always have the elders with us and then one day they’re gone. And now I’m them.
Just to be clear, the tree wasn’t crying, I was. Day one of our visit to Oaxaca in Central Mexico, about five hours south of Mexico City, we joined a tour with a bi-lingual guide to visit the archeological site of Mitla, a place I had visited over forty years ago.
The step-fret designs are individually cut stones. No mortar is involved.
We took a couple of tours while in Oaxaca. They were cheap, $20 each for the entire day, cold water provided. The guides were very knowledgeable. We stopped for lunch at great local restaurants and the groups were small, maybe eight people. It helps that we were visiting during the slow season. It rained most days, but it never slowed us down.
I kept forgetting to bring my “before” pictures with me.
When I visited Mitla in 1975, it was located off a dirt road in the high dessert. I was in awe as I walked the archeological site. The site hasn’t changed much but boy have the surroundings. It is now situated in the middle of a large community that services the many bus loads of tourists arriving daily. I can’t even imagine it during high season.
On the way to Mitla we stopped at the Tule Tree. I had never heard of it. It is the tree with the largest circumference in the world, 137 feet around!
Located in the Zapotecan village of Santa Maria del Tule, Oax.
For some reason I was overcome with grief looking at this beautiful 2,000 year old tree. She knew the ancients, saw the slaughter of the indigenous people, lived through revolution after revolution, and now stands witness to the insanity of our times. Maybe it was me, but I sensed sadness and wept. I wonder if she knew an earthquake was coming to her land two weeks later that would kill many people?
Feeling emotional.
One more stop to see a petrified waterfall. We didn’t quite beat the rain, but it was worth the trek.
Sulphuric spring pools to the left.
We had a full day with eight more to go. There was so much more to see and do. Stay tuned. DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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