Gelasia
I came into this world by my mother and she left this world by me.
I invite you to read some of what she wrote a decade ago when she had the occasion to remember her life. I have read it all in recent days and would recommend chapter 6 if you are pressed for time.
I made a version in Spanish, for myself, because she chose to write her autobiography in English, and it was always difficult for me to swallow her words coated that way.
Why did she write her life story in English? Because she was an incredibly smart and tough woman who would not let this country’s smallness diminish her greatness.
She arrived to the USA in her 40s with a PhD and was forced to begin all over again: college, masters, doctorate, in a language she did not speak, while working full time and raising a child, on the wages immigrant women are allowed.
She spent literally 70 years of her life serving the needs of others and in her epilogue asks: did I forget to live?
I don’t think so. Even retired, with stunning sunset views, her body increasingly afflicted, she could not stop working: writing about the mental health needs of young people, immigrants, families, women, the materially poor; patiently explaining our calling to justice, in all its forms.
It was her way to be. A genius.
I was in a car driving our boys home from summer camp when I called her to ask for a recipe. She was writing, in her chair, covered in pillows to absorb pain.
After she hung up with me, she got up and then God called. She stayed on the line with him for many days to come.
She’d made deals with him before – described in her book, of course. I imagine they had a lot to discuss.
The last words she wrote:
La imagen de Dios en cada persona también implica la capacidad de relacionarnos con otros seres humanos de manera justa, amorosa y respetuosa.
Fuimos creados
The image of God in every person implies our capacity to be with one another in a way that is just, loving and respectful.
We were created
We were. I was. She was.
If you feel moved to reply to this message, I ask only that you quote a line of hers that you enjoyed. You may want to wait, though.
I will soon add her book from 1981, which she wrote just a few months after we arrived to the United States, with nothing more than a suitcase. It was typeset mechanically and each accent mark was added by hand. Hers, no doubt.
Thinking of her thinking of you.
colophon
The cover of her autobiography is almost certainly what is called folk art. And, also, standing at her side, searching for prayers to read out loud to her, I found this in St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises
She swore by corazonadas, truths that cannot be contained by our incomplete science. She would (or perhaps will) greatly enjoy this rhyme across time.
I love you.