My Mum Electa
My mum Electa (often mistaken for Electra) who loved to be called Josie (short for Josefina, the name she wanted) passed away in her sleep six days ago. Her doctor said it was a cardiac respiratory arrest.
Mum had dementia, hypertension, and Parkinson’s. She spent the last years of her life in the nursing home, immobile and fully dependent on her carers.
Mum had the greenest green thumb (didn’t get that from her) but cannot cook for shit (got that from her). She loved Tina Turner, Rod Stewart, and The Beatles.
She and dad separated when I was still in elementary school. They just weren’t right for each other.
Then she met Trevor, a young handsome Australian war veteran who adored and loved her dearly. And who Mum loved and adored with equal if not more measure. Trevor was the love of her life. Trevor treated her with much tenderness and generosity. She was genuinely happy for the first time in her life.
Trevor died soon after they were married. I think that broke mum’s spirit and she was never the same afterward.
Mum taught me to love wildly, to live in the present, to forgive unconditionally, and to always try and treat other people with all the kindness in my heart.
I dreamt about her last night. Or maybe it was just my grief playing tricks on me. She was wearing her wedding dress when she married Trevor. She was smiling, called out to me using my childhood nickname, and said: “Bic, I’m walking.”
I love you, Nanay. I will miss you every day. I hope you and Trevor have found each other again, having a beer, laughing, and dancing with not a single care in the world.
