Ursula and Rosa. I See Them, In Me

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2009

Ursula and Rosa. I See Them, In Me

A long time ago, my paternal grandmother Ursula, told me that before she died, she wanted to see all of her grandchildren happily married to the men or women they loved. Divorce is rare in our family. My paternal grandfather had abandoned his family when my father was a small boy. He and my grandmother raised his five siblings. It wasn't an easy life for them. A hispanic woman with six children to raise didn't have a lot of options in the 1940's. She was a maid and God only knows what else she did to feed her family.

Growing up, my grandmother Ursula was my world. She loved us so much that I never gave a thought to the fact that I had a grandfather out there who had started another family several hundred miles away from his first family. I didn't care. I had my "Welita." We never did call her abuelita....just Welita. Her friends in Seagraves always called her "Chula." She was a strong woman. Petite in stature, she stood tall to me...like the Statue of Liberty. Oh she was a strong lady indeed. She had to be. When she had company over, she would whip out her little pots and pans and make something delicious and always always, it was enough to feed everyone. Welita was faithful to her church and even when she was not feeling well, would get on her knees and pray to God at the altar. Welita always carried Juicy Fruit gum in her purse and she would give us a piece when we were figidety and that always seemed to make us happy. She would hold our hands when we were sad or hold us in her little tiny lap until we felt better. I always felt safe with my Welita. Her laughter is still in my heart.

My grandmother has made two visits to me during two of my darkest days. I called her and she came. I wanted to be like my grandmother but God chose to let me and my husband be childless and when I do get to Heaven, I know He will tell me why. Motherhood includes your children and your children's children. And here I have to talk about my own mother. Thank you God for giving me the best mother ever. Rosa, my mother, thoughout my life, you have never ever abandoned us. How can I explain to you what my mother means to me. There is nothing...I mean nothing that my mother wouldn't do for us. She drives six hours from Lubbock to San Antonio by herself just to visit me and my sister Cyndi and her family. I had once hoped to be a mother like my own mother. I would like to think that I would have had a bit of her and a bit of my Welita. I can only imagine what our life would have been like if we had had children of our own.