Yolanda: what a beautiful picture you painted for all of us. It shocked my memories in a good way. Thank you. It reminded me that my abuela Dona Lola, que en paz descance, was also so serious about the flowers. And we had to walk such a long way from her house to the cementary. She did all the work; I guess we were there just to keep her company and carry the empty buckets back. We were a small family so there were just two or three graves. Two of the graves were of her sons who died as teenagers. She sighed a lot while she washed the tombstones. And we little cousins learned respect; we would be stopped if we got too noisy or chased each other among the graves and especially if we walked on the graves. She said very little when she corrected us; she just looked at us and shook her head. That was enough. I'm the head Tia now, so maybe its time to revive the custom in my immediate
family. Around here silk flowers seem to be appropriate. Again, thanks.
I think the reason our relatives didn"t speak of the death of a child is obvious, the pain is overwhelming and in the telling come the tears. "recordar es volver a vivir" In researching my grandfather Jose Anastacio Medina I discovered four of his siblings dying at a very young age, only he and his sister Margarita survived. Unfortunately they both lost their parents at a very young age and were sent to live with their mother's sister in Santa Rosalia de Camargo, Chihuahua. And speaking of the dead.....
Now that El dia de los muertos is around the corner I recall my abuela materna Aurelia Yanez de Saavedra going to Ciudad Juarez and visiting El Mercado Cuahtemoc to purchase bunches of cut flowers in orange, yellow, white and brown. She would bring them back and put them in tinas full of water to keep them from wilting. I still remember the vivid colors and the aroma of the crisantemos or "flores de muertos" as she called them. Later in the evening we would all help arrange floral bouquets for the many graves of her loved ones. This yearly ritual began very early on Nov 2 and it was a whole day activity. My abuelo Julio, would bring his huge truck and load all of the tinas full of flowers, they would also take brooms, rakes, shovels and hoes to clean up each gravesite. Not only did they cleanup the area but sometimes they had to repair or paint the crosses or
make new ones. I know that for many people in Mexico the custom is to setup an altar with food and drinks, but in my family, after all that hard work, WE ate the food. It was a good feeling to see all the different families in the area honoring their dead. My favorite part was watching my grandma choose each bouquet and arrange several of them on each grave, she would then get a can full of water and sprinkle the freshly raked dirt. You know, whenever it rains in the desert there is a very special smell that one never forgets and that smell brings back memories of Mis Abuelos and a lost tradition.
Saludos, Yolanda Medina Perez
El Paso, Tx.
Irma GomezLucero <igomezlucero@...> wrote:
That may be true in some environments, but maybe not in ours. Growing up, I recall many relatives lamenting death of children. I still recall my grandfather lamenting the loss of three children who died in infancy. I recall him mentioning this on many occasions. He's the person who influenced me most in genealogy. He always listed these three children. My father being the second to the last of ten, always spoke of those siblings who died way before he was ever born. He knew their birthdates, cause of death, and death date. I remember him describing their deaths quite vividly. My guess is that these events were talked about frequently. Otherwise how could a child recall so much. Does anyone else recall such experiences? Just wonderinfg if my family is a fluke or something? :)
I do remember an Anglo-American friend recounting her experience of suffering a miscarriage during her stint as a Baptist Missionary in the jungles of Ecuador. She was shocked when her miscarried child was brought to her in a shoebox. She was also told the same thing as your nurse friend. The _expression_ that was used was, "Life is cheap."
Irma
Dear Ranchos, I too had similar sentiments after 2 days of viewing and copying death records. There were sooo many deaths of infants within a short time span, some of typhoid fever, some of umbilical infection, some had infantile diarrea and it went on and on with the infants that I felt very sad for almost a week. My husband thought I was going into a depression or breakdown and I think he was worried because I talked a great deal about it and a couple of times I even broke down and cried. I couldn't help but put myself in the shoes of all the parents but especially the mothers who had lost their children. Being a mother and grandmother I know how precious and special it is to be pregnant and to be a grandmother. I can't imagine the grief of losing a child.
After talking about it with a niece who is a nurse in Ensenada she asked that i see it from a different perspective. She stated that many of these women barely had a break from one pregnancy into the next and in many cases they were living hand to mouth and losing one child when you have many children and don't know how you're going to feed them is almost a relief. When she was studying nursing and had to do community service she said she went into so many homes to attend expectant mothers or new mothers because this was the only medical care they would ever receive because it was free and she experienced the loss of a child with these mothers and to most it was a relief not to have to feed another child.
She asked me to look at this from the point of view of an underdeveloped country, not from the US perspective which is all I have to go on. I did and while I didn't feel good about the deaths it did allow me to see things differently.
Alicia Carrillo de San Jose, Ca
Peggy Delgado <peggydee@...> wrote:
Joseph, I felt the same way about my great-grandmother. She died in 1915, I knew it from my mom and grandmother....but when i saw the record in black and white, I too felt sad.......I was really sad knowing that my grandma, the woman who practically raised me, lost her mom so early in her childhood (she was three).
Peggy
by Date 
-