Yesterday was Mother’s Day, the fifth occurrence of the celebration honoring mothers, motherhood, and the bonds between mothers and their children since my mom, Beatriz Diaz-Granados, died, Needless to say, it was a difficult day for me; I was close to my mother, who passed away on July 19, 2015 at the age of 86 after a long series of illnesses that included hypertension, depression, dementia, and heart problems related to a long convalescence after a 2010 operation to repair her spine, so I spent a good part of my Sunday in a deep funk.
Now, now. I am not going to devote this blog post to rants about how tragic her last years on Earth were or how her plans for her two grown children went horribly awry. Maybe I’ll delve into those topics in the future. Not today, though.
My mom was my No. 1 hero and, in return, my No. 1 fan. She was:
- Generous (often to a fault)
- Adventurous (She defied the wishes of her family and became a flight attendant for Avianca in the early 1950s. Not even my granduncle Bernardo, who was on the airline’s board of directors, could deter Mom, though he did give orders to her instructors not to cut her any slack in hopes that my mother would quit. She did not.)
- Strong-willed (She raised two kids, my older half-sister Vicky and me, pretty much on her own.)
- A survivor
- An entrepreneur
- A bibliophile
- Best. Cook. Ever.
- A huge fan of the Indiana Jones franchise
- A huge fan of composer/conductor John Williams
- Best. Mother. Ever.
I can’t deny it. I miss my mother a lot. I don’t spend every waking second of my life wrapped up in a blanket of grief and gloom; I’d be incredibly difficult to live with if I did that. Life, after all, is a series of comings and goings, and like the proverbial show, it must go on.
But there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t have at least one passing thought about my mom, Beatriz Diaz-Granados.