Bertha Trenco Rosende,
Mi Querida Mami
9/21/1941 --- 10/25/2004
To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sow;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
My mother died last week. I've lost the only person who ever loved me unconditionally. I've lost my best friend.
I remember being assigned to write a paper in 6th grade about a living person who I admired above all others. I chose my mom. I wrote, "I hope to some day be as good a wife and mother as my mother is." I've never come close.
My mom, or Mami, as I called her in Spanish, was always available, at a moment's notice, for my children and me. She always put the needs of others before her own, driving or flying off to help the injured, sick, or sad members of her family. She took care of everyone, even my dad. Without her, we are lost.
I will write more about my generous, loving, and compassionate mother. But, right now, the loss is too new, the pain too much to bear.