February 24, 2004

Kika

Tomorrow my family will bury another elder member. One of my great aunts passed away yesterday. She was one of my grandfather’s sisters, the last one left of the 16 siblings. Some of my great aunts and uncles passed away before I was born, in Cuba. The rest have lived full lives here in the States. From California to New York to Florida. They went wherever their immediate families took root.

Tia Kika was a quirky one. If she ever got you on the phone you would be there for quite a while chatting with her. She, like my grandfather and most of his siblings, was a strong willed, opinionated woman. Old school Cubana. Sometimes she would make her stand in a conversation contrary to what every one else thought just to be different, to get under your skin.

I’m told my aunt Kika was delusional during the last days of her life. She had been having non-stop conversations with long gone family members. In her mind she was with my grandfather and other brothers and sisters, with my mom and her sisters in their youth. She talked about pets she had when she was a child, old boyfriends, her family’s home in Oriente, and Mamacita y Papacito, her parents. She had long talks with my tia Amanda, who’s eyes you see at the top of this blog, about how beautiful she was and how she was going to be successful.

I think what gets to me the most is that it’s not only the fact that she was, in her mind, with her deceased family members in the waning hours and days of her life. No. She was in her Cuba. She was wearing home made dresses and strolling through El Parque Central in Bayamo. She rode in horse drawn carriages and knew every neighbor. She was in the land that defined her. Living in a culture that she not only loved, but that she had had to leave behind. This country, as proud of it and as thankful of it as she was for it’s hospitality, was always a temporary home for her. Her real home was Cuba, and while her remains will be forever here in exile, she is now home. Back to her island after a long, arduous journey of what is and what could have been.

Descansa en paz, Tia Kika.

Posted by Val Prieto at February 24, 2004 08:19 AM

Comments

Adios, Tia. Te queremos mucho.

Posted by: Amanda at February 24, 2004 08:26 AM

Oh, guys. I am so sorry for your loss.

She's with el Primo and Curly now.

Posted by: kelley at February 24, 2004 10:03 AM


I'm sorry, man.

But while you remember her, a part of her remains alive. Please, write down as many of her stories as you can remember. Then get your cousins to add their memories of her. In that book, she can live forever.

And if you send a copy of that book to the Library of Congress, it can never be destroyed.

Some day, your kids will ask and they deserve that book.

Posted by: homebru at February 24, 2004 10:26 AM

Sorry to hear about this Val. She sounded like quite spit-fire. The sort of woman you especialy miss and appreciate upon her death.

Posted by: Patrick at February 24, 2004 10:30 PM

Thanks for your kind words and support. It really helps alot to know you guys care and are there for me and my family. Gracias.

Posted by: Val Prieto at February 25, 2004 08:20 AM

I'm so sorry for your loss, Val. God bless you all.

Posted by: pam at February 26, 2004 08:39 AM


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