Six weeks ago, on March 15th--the Ides of March--my mom slipped quietly from this life to the next. Todd had just arrived from Spain, completing
our family circle. He sat next to her
hospital bed, looking out over the view from my mom’s bedroom, holding her
hand. Although she had been mostly
unresponsive for the last couple of days, my mom must have sensed, finally,
that it was okay to go. With us three
daughters taking a brief reprieve downstairs, and just Todd and Rich—the two
surgeons—in the room, my mom quietly and peacefully crossed over.
I was overwhelmed by a welter of emotions: sadness,
relief, gratitude, and deep, abiding love for my mom, for my sisters, my
husband, my daughters, my stepdad, my brothers-in-law, Parviz, my aunts, my
whole family gathered around. Tia and
Sasha faced their Nana’s death with sadness and acceptance, asking to come see
her, holding her hand, kissing her cooling cheek, remarking on the chill in Nana’s
hands while her chest was still so warm. They were not afraid to be with her, and their show of tenderness and
love was a soothing balm to my own pain.
Their acceptance of death, mirrored in her own approach to the end of
her life, was my mom’s last gift to all of us.
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| Cupertino sunrise: Appreciating the beauty |
And so, with great relief and heavy hearts, we returned to
Spain 10 days later. The celebration of
my mom’s life was joyful, tearful, funny, and packed with those who loved her
deeply. We owe a huge debt to my sister,
Suzanne, and Felipe Escamilla—Suzanne’s colleague and friend and now a friend
of the family, too—who spent hours putting together a video of my mom’s life
and words. It is a marvelous
compilation, and I am grateful to be able to return to her words over and
over—I continue to learn from her, even now.
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| Found on the beach by Simone: A message from Mom |
Spain and the amazing people we have met here have opened
their arms and embraced us on our return.
From the sweet little public-catholic school, Nuestra Señora de La
Merced, to our multiple groups of
friends, to our landlord, to my dance compañeras, to the folks at the hospital,
to the guy in the panaderia next door, everyone has swept us right back into
our life here. While Tia and Sasha were
a bit nervous their first day of school, it took them about 10 minutes to
readjust, thanks to the help of their friends Daniela and Isabela.
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| First playdate back in Spain |
What I had missed most (aside from my husband) was flamenco. I have been fascinated by this music and
dance since I got here; the desire to understand its intricate rhythms and
forms has only intensified, and over the past 8 months I practiced my five
bulerias and the sevillanas whenever I yearned to return to Spain. I danced for my mom on occasion, and was sad
to have missed performing in the Christmas zambomba as well as an actual
performance in Madrid. I jumped right
back in, not only with my original class with Concha Baras, but with an
additional two classes per week in the morning with Lola de Cádiz, and then
another group of friends started a class Friday nights with Estefania that I
just couldn’t pass up. All of this
brought me right up to speed pretty quickly, and all of a sudden Concha had
arranged a performance in a caseta for her bulerias students…Ole! Goal achieved! I danced bulerias at the feria!
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| With friends Angeline, Carolina, and Montse at the Puerto Feria Gates |
The Feria, the Feria, it’s feria season. Tia, Sasha, and I practiced our sevillanas,
which wasn’t tough, and even Todd got in on the action, doing a manly version
pretty well, bolstered by his improved Spanish (8 months on your own living in
the middle of Puerto was quite an incentive to learn). We went to the feria for four days straight,
staying out until way past midnight (even the girls!) and taking in this most
Andalucian of experiences.
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| With Daniela and Isabela--¡Ole! |
And the dresses—oh, the dresses! I went out and bought two new ones (new for
me, anyway), and felt like a medieval Spanish princess all night long. My newly-acquired affinity for dressing up in
the most outrageous mode possible is matched only by my fascination with how
the other women dress—truly, there are so many styles and ways to match colors
and flowers and accessories that I walk down the street, marveling at the
pageantry. And then you get to DANCE in
these dresses, all night long!
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| A Carmen de Sevilla wannabe |
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| My Frida Kahlo look, with friend Christina |
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| Vamping outside the castle portals |
This feria season lasts over a month, if you only stay
local: Puerto went first this year, starting its 6-day run on April 24. Rota was next, from
May 2-5. Jerez came next, the cradle of
flamenco and Andalusian horseflesh, with a spectacular show of dresses, for
both people and horses, from May 6-12. And Sanlúcar, in the Feria de Manzanilla, starts May 28.
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| Dad can dance, too, it turns out |
Watch for our next update to find out if the next flamenco class
I’m adding—a weekly evening class where you learn just how to perform in
public!—does me any good. I know my mom
would take delight in what we are doing; my only regret is that she can’t see
Tia and Sasha all dressed up. She would
laugh at the exuberance and joy of all this craziness—and that makes me feel
better. Gracias, España.
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| ¡Muchisimo gracias! |
