Ode to Luz - Rest in Peace

Sunday morning a woman named Luz died in my community.

She was a young, pretty woman - unique looking. Freckles, dark curly hair, smallish wide-set eyes, medium stature. She always had a smile on her face when I saw her. I didn't know her very well, but I know her kids well - three of them - the youngest Manuel in kindergarten, Daniel and Carmen in fourth grade. They all resemble their mother with dark tresses and freckles, they also always have smiles on their faces, much like their mother. A perfect looking family, in fact - the four of them, happy, together. Always walking down the long empty road from town to their house, sometimes hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm, never to forget a big wave and a smile to me if we passed. I smiled back to all with an 'hola,' always.

Recently, about a week ago, I sat in front of Luz and her daughter Carmen on the bus back up to Copey from the bigger nearby town. Carmen was goofing off with me and teasing me, touching my shoulders, head, etc, pretending it wasn't her. I played back, as her mom just laughed along with us….it kind of broke the ice between her mother and I, as I never really had the opportunity to get to know her personally. When the teasing between Carmen and I finally stopped, Luz and her daughter continued. I'm not sure what they were talking about, but from the looks of it, something quite comical. They were giggling and laughing together very audibly and embracing and looking at each other and just outwardly enjoying each other's company…the entire 20 minute bus ride - as if they somehow knew what were to come.

Sunday afternoon was her funeral. I would guess to say nearly the entire community showed up - pews full, extra chairs in the back, standing out the door, even people that didn't personally know her showed up, to be in solidarity with her and her family. The sermon talked about what a strong woman Luz was throughout the entire battle of her cervical cancer. She never once asked Why, or even Why ME? She just went on bravely to the bitter end trying to battle the disease that eventually overtook her. I saw power and strength in Luz's eyes every time I saw her. I knew she was strong without really knowing her. The priest told the community not to grieve over her absence, but be grateful and joyful that there is one more angel in heaven.

Monday morning, the day after her funeral, I walked down to the supermarket and to stop by the community learning center. Her sons Daniel and Manuel were playing with two other boys on the soccer field. I heard Manuel yell my name from afar….he often does that. In fact, he did that when I walked into the silent church for his mother's funeral - it always brings a smile to my face. I smiled and waved back to all the boys. It was so sad for me to see those boys playing soccer on the field - as orphans, no mother, no father, just their remaining grandmother to take care of them. But when I saw them playing that day, seemingly impervious to saying goodbye to their mother the day before, I felt a strong pang for them - day one of their young lives without their mother.

Later that day, I ran into Manuel, the 5-year-old son. After a few exchanges, I said to him, "Manuel, I'm really sorry about your mother." He kind of stopped playing around on the fence and looked up at me with his big hazel eyes with a slightly surprised look, "She's dead," he said. "I know, and I bet you are very sad….." and then I explained I was there for him if he needed anything. In the eyes of a kindergartner, it's hard to fully comprehend what death actually means - I'm sure he wondered why he was leaning over the coffin the day before so curiously looking at his mother in a glass covered box, seeming like she was just peacefully asleep. I told him we could talk or play or do anything he wanted, but that it was okay to be sad.

There's an absence in Copey without Luz. She lived a quiet life, but it had a strong presence on the community, especially with her three lovely kids in the school, all of whom I hold very dearly in my experience here. I'm sad for Luz, and I'm even more sad for her children, left alone to face this world with very few extended family members. All we as a community can continue to do is show those kids we are here for them. And if I know those kids, they are strong in spirit just like their mother, and will be resilient in the face of this tragedy.

Sunday morning a woman named Luz died in my community.

Goodbye to Luz. May you rest in eternal peace.