Mourning from Afar

I was slow getting to bed last night, in fact it was after midnight, before I headed off to bed. I had dozed off while lying the girls down to sleep. I had to come in and check up on my Facebook before I could go to sleep and then I got sucked into playing my latest game Monopoly Millionaires. I thought I could hear voices coming from my bedroom and Jose had fallen asleep a couple hours ago so I was slightly confused. When I went into the room, Jose was lying across the bed sobbing. Maria just called to let him know that his grandpa Nicolas had passed away. This is the call that he's been dreading for the last two weeks since Nicolas stopped eating and then developed a fever two days ago. We had hoped for better news since the fever broke yesterday and he had actually asked for something to eat and drink.

This is the man that fathered 16 children and countless grandchildren, acted like a father to my husband for the 15 years that he lived there with them, and commanded a love and loyalty among his family like no other. I first met Nicolas and Marciana in March of 2008 when I made my first trip to Zirandaro, Guerrero. I don't know his specific age but he was in his 90's and he lived a very full life. Over the last few years, I have seen him slowly start to decline and keep thinner and thinner. Nicolas hated the doctors and anything related to medicine. He had lost most of his hearing but didn't trust using anything like a hearing aid. On each visit, it was always very easy to find him. His chair sits at the head of his wife's bed, just beside the water cooler with his bed just across the walkway. He had a straight line to the toilet that was finally built inside the home last year. His sombrero was always within arm's reach if not perched upon his head. At night, he would place it over his head to keep out the light and thus he slept all night long, barely moving at all. Sometimes I would fear that he'd leave us and we wouldn't know it until morning. Yet that wasn't how he went thankfully.

My husband took his death particularly hard as he was trapped between his head and his heart. There is nothing that my husband wanted more than to get on a plane and fly down there to be with his family and say goodbye to his beloved grandfather. His head told him that he shouldn't go. If he left, who would be here to pay the bills and send money down to the family? If he went, how would he be able to continue sending child support to his boys? If he went, what would happen to our family here? Would we lose the home? And in the end, his head won out over his heart. He is a man that takes his responsibilities very seriously, even when I tell him that everything will take care of itself, don't worry, I'm here to support any choice you make.

Jose drove over to his uncle's house to be with him and his cousins while they discussed what could be done from afar to help. I was so worried about him driving even the short distance to his house at 2:30am in his state of mind knowing that cops are looking for drunk drivers at that hour and worried that something worse might come of it. Thankfully he made it there and back safely and then he was off to work at 5am. I was able to sleep from 5-8am and overslept my alarm so I had to drive Erika so she'd make it to school on time. My task of the day was finding any digital photos I had taken of Nicolas and getting enlargements printed up at Costco and framing them all. Jose had a short day at work and was home in time to start running errands with me. Everyone gathered at his uncle's house to continue planning. One uncle left early this morning with barely a word to anyone. Another aunt bought her ticket leaving tomorrow. The ones who can't go are forlorn and heartsick. When my grandmother passed away last October while I was in Mexico, I at least knew that I could come home if I wanted to, my husband suffers from this basic lack of freedom of movement.

Faviola organized a family gathering in the evening and they set up the ofrenda for Nicolas with his pictures, candles, and flowers to honor him. Meanwhile in Zirandaro, the family has purchased a coffin, the doctor has come over and prepared the body, and Nicolas is set up in his favorite part of the house so the family can gather around him during the final hours. I'm not religious so I'm feeling out of sorts but it's important to be with Jose during this time and support him. The house is packed with people that I don't know, the cousins have come with the exception of the Madras family only an hour away. Some have switched from Catholicism to Jehovahs Witnesses so they choose to not participate in the prayer. We still have some chocolate rounds from my last trip to Zirandaro so Faviola makes up a huge pot of hot chocolate/atole to serve along with bags of pan dulce.

In Zirandaro, a grandson has set up the laptop and web camera so we are able to join the two locations together during the service there. The floor in front of the casket is covered in flowers and Nicolas is laid out in all white. They uncover his face so the family here can say their goodbyes. Everyone crowds around the laptop watching with tears streaming down their faces and quiet sobs racking their bodies young and old alike. Every once in awhile, someone throws themselves onto the casket and you see family gather around to console and pull them away. Today technology is a beautiful thing in Jose's eyes too.

Que descanza en paz Nicolas Medrano, le queremos muchisimo!