The Gift of Surrender..When my Sister Vicky Died

Lesson learned  The Gift of Surrender

it is the hardest most painful experience one can imagine
when you have been blessed with a large family like ours
we get to see ourselves in each other

we were blessed.. there are so many who have siblings and often find themselves trying to learn each other as unique and very different individuals

i have always had siblings that i looked up to for my soon to be 65 years because of being the last of this family of 10 or 11.. because my youngest brother died at 5

losing our oldest sister is like losing part of the air I breathe since day one

i grew up with my nephew Curtis Martinez and nieces as if they were the extended siblings all my life

all my life memories are shaped by what this family of characters, that can often get on each others nerves, that can be ever so theatrical, that are very different in each of our personalities, that share a devotion and reverence for each other, in spite of our ups and downs and even our quarrels.  

Daddy was that happy provider and gave us all an anchor of love, joy, jubilation, laughter, music, dance, theatre, and proud legacy of protection to and for each other.

Mammy was the fierce, stern, strict and the most courageous family cornerstone, moral compass, rule of law, and showed us that nothing or no one could or would try to come between her love and her children.  She was that... she did not allow anyone the right to disrespect her children.  

And after Daddy died, she was that fortress that each one of us had to come home to, to know that her love was her lifetime sacrifice for us.

To say the least, when Vicky was diagnosed with final stage terminal pancreatic cancer less than 2 months ago, none of us was ready.    I was in denial.   My friend Chantal had just died.  This is not happening.  This couldnt be.  Not to Vicky.  

Vicky was to me that good girl all her life.  She just wasnt wayward like me  or the rest of us.  She was to us this paragon on virtue.  She was always demure.  As a matter of fact,  she had only lately started to wear red  and loved it  even though, she would see me in all my flamboyance, and remark under her breadth,  how coskell i could be.  But somewhere along the way, she got used to it, and would actually, enjoy it 

She loved her, some Sonny.  Her dearly departed husband.  Both she and Sonny were my godparents.  And she so loved her children Curt, his wife Dianne, Lisa Gylla,  and her grans and her great grans with a knowing that was so intimate.  She knew each one to her soul.

More than most she loved to pray. We grew up in tradition and faith. She was so devout in her faith journey.  

I knew she prayed unceasingly for me,  and each of my loved ones, just like she did for her children, her grandchildren and great grans.  

Without overt demonstration, she was there to take care of us,  of me.  With a call ever so often,  Grace how are you,  how is Daryean,  how is,  and she'll list all the names of our brood.  and say I'm praying for each of you in my thoughts.

And that is how I just know... love is prayer.. someone holding you up, wishing only for your wellbeing,  sharing kindness, blessings and always present.. just a prayer away , and  a visit.

And in her own intimate and unobtrusive way,  she gifted me the meaning of Surrender.

It was not about how,  whether I was a religious, or not, whether I chose to or not to practice tradition, whether i might not or choose to attend Church.   In her own simplistic way,   she was a source of peace, comfort, respite, hospitality, feeding the hungry, teaching, sharing, caring, and giving to each and everyone she loved and met along the way.

In the end, her wishes were to make things as simple as possible. 

Nothing grand.  Nothing too obvious.  Her privacy was particularly important to her, because she did not want to be a worry to others.

And what a gift to me, and to all of us, is How to Surrender.

None of our presumed fixations with what is conceived, perceived or believed,  just Let go and Let God.

One of the last songs she enjoyed was one our Mother Rosie would sing at our family gatherings.  I so dedicate to our Queen,  Vicky,  Victoria Clare ... Love Continues

Ill be loving you Always
With a love that true Always
When the things you plan 
Need a helping hand
I will understand Always, Always
And when things arent clear Always
That's when Ill be there Always
Not for just an hour
Not for just a day
Not for just a year
But AlwaysNot for just an hour
Not for just a day
Not for just a year
But Always

Stand for something or you will Fall for anything

Each part of the tapestry of life, is the thread that weaves through the invisible. When the seams are knitted with love, all become manifest and whole in being...gcw may2013

The call  that late November came from my sister and there was the uncertainty and urgency in her voice that my brother Michael, was hospitalized.   She suggested I should try to come back home to Maryland, at the earliest time off allowed.

Michael, a robust 5'10" 225 lb, brick muscle gladiator, rugby player, Master Electrician, devoted father, sometimes ornery brother, was never sick or in hospital for all my life of knowing him.  Michael, was just impenetrable about his positions and opinions.   And Michael taught me the meaning of indomitable will and courage as he fought and battled to hold on to life, with a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. He survived for five months after that call. The night before he died, with a frail body mass of 97 lbs, he bravely ushered in the finality of life, with his signalling proclamation, "I'm outta here".  In the words of his favorite song " For what is a man, what has he got, if not himself then he has not, to do the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who yields, I did it all and I stood tall and did it My Way"  (My Way sung by Frank Sinatra), he died as he lived, with purpose and self discipline.

Within the tapestry of life we encounter the threads of experiences which sew together the quality of the  human being that we clothe ourselves in as character.  When our family, and especially Michael's offsprings remember him, etched in the fabric of his person, are the intricate conviction of  his sense of  values.

We are all part of an ethereal tapestry that is weaved in unknowns.  To comprehend the magnificence of our personal brilliance and the reason for our presence are explorations into the realm of infinite potentiality.

In birth we appear as fragile and helpless, and nothing is more nurturing or life giving as the security of  a mother's womb.  On arrival to our assumed identity, we build character and form definitions of  the image that we conceive as our own.  With all types of influences and impacts from family; from traditions; from rituals; from education; from society;  we become more inclined to demonstrate the part that is most etched in our life training and adopted personalities.

One of Michael's favorite ideologies  and one which is akin to defining his persona, is " Stand for something or you will fall for anything. "   He processed the quality of noble conscience, in his assertion and conviction of manliness.   He was inflexible, assertive and immovable when he took a stance.

During our maturing phases of life, moments of challenge and disquiet are when our chances to welcome and nurture the scripts of  friendship, loyalty, integrity, honesty, fairness, justice, and compassion appear as counsel.   These are the euphemisms of personal character definitions that guide and shepherd us in our journeys of trial and tribulations, hope and despair and personal redemption.  We are characters in the art of life and we portray our roles with our personal scripts.  Shakespeare's As you Like It

 "  All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players,  they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts" As You Like It Act 2, scene 7, 139–143

characterizes our mortal existence and our many stages of appearance.

With our exits and entrances, with the many roles we perfect, there is no illusion in memory.  Our cloaks and garments that remain forever to warm the hearts and wipe the tears, are stitched and threaded with favorite and reverenced emotions.  The patches of each of our life's tapestry are colored and fused with our  invisible likeness of being.  The emotions of character are never erased.  Our life is a story of brilliance.  From our unknown beginnings in the birthing passage, to the fragility in our final exits, we remain carved in the gifts we give to others, the many attributes of character formation.

... Integrity, Compassion, Humor, Empathy, Respect, Forgiveness, Compassion, Sincerity, Empathy, any of these or all shown on the above, we chose and live:  What do you stand for?