These Moments in Life...

Two deaths and a baptism are what I want to talk about...

But first, today I realized something. And it's nothing profound. It's nothing visionary. Not even ground-breaking.

In fact, it's something I've kind of already known, but never have really lived by or subscribed to, as I've often been so focused on what I do, how much I get done, accomplished. Though, I can't be blamed - I come from a work-driven society.

So to explain a little more, this is what I realized:

If I will take anything out of this experience (besides the spanish, besides the parasites, besides some bed bug bite scars), it will be the people I have known. It won't be the murals I painted. It won't be the talks I've given, the groups I've helped organize, nor the conferences or trainings I've attended.

It will be the people. The people in this tiny little mountain community in central Costa Rica that I never dreamed even existed just a year and a half earlier (and of course, my fellow PCVs, too). They will be what remains from this experience.

And now after today, one more important relationship that will remain was formed. A woman in my community by the name of Rocio asked me to be the Godmother of her son Ian who was born in January. I have become close with this family since the beginning, and was a part of their life during Rocio's pregnancy. They are an amazing family with four boys living in an extremely simple two bedroom house in the central part of Copey (meaning "downtown"). They are fabulous parents and their boys will go far in life. And for this reason, I'm so honored to be a part of their lives, now and into the future. Stay tuned for pictures of the baptism!

Baby Ian and his dad, Mario:

The family looking at pictures I printed for them:

And On to the first part of this title of this blog post - two deaths. My host sister texted me the other day notifying me of the death of one of their cousins, José Rodolfo. I had hung out with at family gatherings a few times. He had lived in the States for a number of years of his young life and we often talked about this. He was apparently very sick for a long time, and last Friday the sickness took over. I could tell it was incredibly hard on my host family. I went to the Pulpería (that they own) to pay my host mom a visit and drop off a sympathy card for the family. I could tell instantly how hard this had been for her. Immediately upon mentioning of her nephew, her eyes just welled up with tears. All I could do was hug her and listen.

The second death I speak about is that of a great aunt (not a Costa Rican one, a blood related one). We called her Aunt Cherry. But her real name was Clare - Clare Towler, a very distinguished name in my mind. She was 97, and lived a long, full life in San Francisco. A strong memory I have of her is how she always used to buy my siblings and I candy cigarettes. We'd walk to the corner candy store housed in an old, white house with a porch and a ramp up to it in Cross Plains, Wisconsin, and buy a pack of candy cigarettes. I still can feel the chalky, fake taste of them and see the fake smoke that puffed out of them as we walked home. I always felt so distinguished as an eight-year-old smoking candy cigarettes with my great aunt from San Francisco. Well, Tuesday she passed away peacefully and slowly under the care of Hospice. I have many good memories growing up and family visits to her three-story townhouse in the heart of San Fran. She was a lovely, elegant woman.

Aunt Clare, as an LPN in her early days:

On a visit to San Francisco in 1982 (long before the candy cigarettes):

And so these moments pass. And we celebrate, and we mourn, and we continue on.

May both José Rodolfo and Aunt Cherry rest in peace, and may baby Ian have a long happy life!