Titi Viña

She was small in stature, which gave her a great reason to keep a cute pair of pumps on her feet.  Whether it was patent leather Mary Janes or simply a diva like sandal, Titi Viña was always dressed, hair done, nails painted and zapatos on.  She was also always smiling, happy to receive company, as welcoming as ever.  Whenever I interacted with her she always seemed to have a glimmer in her eye, a look of pride and joy.  Maybe because I was Misha…la nieta de Celina, la hija de Neno…which meant I was family... or maybe it was just her way.  She would hug me as tightly as her petite arms could, then take a few moments to stare at me with those warm eyes and proceed to speak to me (whether I understood her or not).  This was Titi Viña.

Tit Viña, Tio Victor and Tata

In May, Titi Viña was diagnosed with Leukemia.  The doctor’s prognosis was grave, six months, they said. Initially, the family (naturally) reacted with sorrow but quickly just about everyone turned to prayer.  We spoke prayerfully and positively together and in our quiet time alone, we prayed.  I’m sure our prayers varied.  Most of us knew that there was a great possibility that the cancer was so far advanced that the result would inevitably be…well, what realistically is the inevitable for ALL of us.  Sobering thought, I know.  So, for me, at least, my prayers were for peace, for comfort, for limited pain and suffering.

Often times, non-believers say “Well, if there’s a God, why is there cancer and suffering? Especially to someone like Titi Viña or Mama Celina (my beloved grandma…may she rest in peace)?”  I can't necessarily claim to know the method to His madness but I do know that God has a plan and we are all part of his divine design.  Period.  I’m not God, so I can’t tell you why my car can go flying across the FDR one warm Saturday night and I can walk away from that virtually unharmed while Leukemia and Alzheimer’s plagued Titi Viña…in and out of the hospital for months.  I do know we all have a purpose.  I do know that Titi Viña touched lives as did Mama Celina and Papa.  I know that these three individuals (amongst many others) have helped develop character within our family.  They’ve shown us how to treat people, they’ve silently emphasized the importance of family unity and they’ve instilled values in us.  Tools, if you will, that we are expected to pass on to our children.

During the next few months, there were ups and downs.  There were times when she would feel strong enough to leave her bed and hang out in the living room, reminiscing on favorite past times and, in between chuckles, she would warn me that long distance relationships are relationships for the foolish.  Then there were the other times...when she just looked tired.  When a hospital room was the last place she wanted to be, and when she would urge her daughters to break her out and take her home.  Titi Viña had a fighting spirit though, so just when you thought she couldn't go one more day, she would somehow find the strength to pull through and make it back to where she wanted to be - home. 

So, on September 4, 2011, when I got word that Titi Viña had gone on to be with the Lord, I sighed and I cried.  I sighed a sigh of relief for her.  Her suffering was over.  She's at peace now, probably hanging with her sister (my grandma), keeping an eye on all of us.  Then I cried.  I cried for those of us left behind.  Will we make them proud?  Will we continue to stay together/united as they were...dedicated and loyal to their brothers and sisters, uncles, nieces, etc.?  No matter who lived in New York or some other part of the country, our elders have always kept in touch, sought each other out, and rolled out the red carpet for each other.  I can only pray we'll continue to do the same.

Titi Viña

That morning, shortly after I got the news of Titi's passing, I walked out into the kitchen and ran into Mama.  She was preparing to take Max for his morning walk.  Mama and Titi Viña were cruise buddies and it was just a few short weeks ago that Titi Viña found the strength to come for a visit.  Mama often asked about her and so I knew that I would have the unpleasant task of delivering the news.  I wasn't sure how Mama was going to take the news, but I decided to just do it.  As I told her, her eyes drooped and her shoulders dropped.  "Well..." she pushed out, "...we knew it was coming and now she's feeling no pain, no suffering."  As she spoke I saw more in her body language and her eyes than I had ever seen before.  At any age, the thought of death is often sad and scary.  But, at 87, it has to be double sobering.  All your friends, companions, peers are going one by one.  Before I knew it I was hugging her tightly and whispering in a cracked voice "Te amo".  Surprisingly, she responded.  "I love you too, mi amor.  I am so happy you're here.  I use to say to myself, 'Wow, I have a granddaughter and I am of no importance to her.  She's forgotten about me', and look, here you are." Her eyes got glassy and I just hugged her, shooshing her insecurities away.  This was the tightest I can ever remember my Mama hugging me, and without a doubt, the most sincere and eloquent she's ever been in her feelings towards me.  "I can't forget about you Mama." I whispered to her as we embraced.

Value who you have, honor who you've had, and every day try to love just a little bit more.  

Rest In Peace Titi.