TLDR: The unexpected death of my second eldest sister has left me in complete shock. In my mind she remains an incredibly important maternal figure. Join me in my prayers for her family today.
Thursday, May 4, 2023, would have been her last cancer check-up, and the family had a great victory celebration planned. For someone who has been fairly sick off and on for the last ten years of her life, she had been in the best of health for the last three years. So much so, that this coming Friday (5/5) she was to fly to Colombia to look for a small farm to purchase. It had been her dream for over 25 years to retire in Colombia, at least part of the time. The family owns a beautiful house in Hollywood, Florida, and her three children and all grandchildren live within five miles of the home. Her husband is finally retiring soon, and she wanted her place in the mountains ready for a move this year. Her excitement was palpable and she couldn’t wait for a bit of rest after a fairly busy life.
Monday, around 9:30 in the morning, she spoke to her husband on the phone. He often called her in the mornings during his breaks. She was jubilant about the upcoming medical appointment and flight. They joked for a few minutes and confirmed a few things related to Thursday’s family meal. Lastly, they talked about who would pick them up at the airport in Colombia to drive them to tour the properties they intended to see.
When her husband arrived home from work around 2:00pm, he was surprised she did not respond to his arrival, as she often did. It was then that he saw her laying on the tiled floor of the kitchen. When he checked her pulse, he realized she had been dead for several hours. She seemed to have fallen in the kitchen, fracturing her head. After calling all the children and Ligia’s siblings, he contacted the authorities and started a four-hour wait for them to arrive.
As soon as I got the call, my mind was transported to Ituango, a small town in the Western Cordillera of the Andes Mountains. I was four years old, and my mother was kissing my brother (2 years old) and I repeatedly on our heads as we slept. It was 4:00 O’clock in the early morning and a taxi was waiting outside the home to take her to the bus depot. Within two days she would be in Paterson, NJ, getting ready to start working in the textile mills. She and one of her friends had been granted a work visa for textile workers. My eldest sister, Maria was at a boarding school near the city of Medellin, which means that the family was left to Ligia to raise, while mom was in the United States. This was no small task because we were a family of nine, with eight children from two-to-sixteen still at home. In fact, the four youngest children were all between two and ten years of age. Ligia was barely sixteen at the time and most of the responsibility for the family fell on her shoulders. My dad spent most of his time at the farm, too busy to raise a young family. Ligia became a mother to her siblings for almost five years, making a myriad of daily decisions for which she was ill-prepared. Over time, however, she became a good parent to us and a great source of support to our father.
Ligia left for the United States in her early twenties, married, and had three children by the time I saw her again, almost ten years later. She lived in Paterson until 2001, when she and her family moved to Hollywood, Florida. Sadly, I had not seen Ligia in almost five years, but we spoke on the phone several times a year. Thinking of her today, I can say with full certainty that she was fundamental to my faith development and my love for God and the Church. She is front and center in every memory I still have of my childhood and early adolescence.
My deep sadness for her loss is compounded by another type of sadness: Sadness that she did not get to realize her retirement dreams. She placed her life on hold to care for others, hoping that one day she would have enough time to rest. The lesson for me (and I hope for you all) is clear: “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may!” Enjoy your life here and now, hold those you love a little longer, take a minute to rest and catch your breath, and love without reservations and with as much joy as you can muster. Carpe Diem (seize the day) is often great advice. Please join me in my prayers for her husband, Alfredo, and for her three adult children (Christian, Steven, and Lymari) and their families.
May her soul and the souls of all the departed by the mercies of God rest in peace, Amen!
Fr. Roman +
