Inay’s garden and other memories

DIASPORA

Inay’s garden and other memories

By Cecilia Palacio

My garden has always been a haven for me. Whenever I feel upset over something big or small, I take out my shovel and work on the soil. Sometimes I take out my pruning shears and give the shrubs a haircut, needed or not. Gardening helps me put things in perspective. Most people would think that the gardening season is short here in Connecticut. But for me gardening is almost a year round thing except for the first three months of the year. The garden is either blanketed in snow or frozen solid from January to March.

My mother died of a heart attack when she was only 54 on February 20, 1973. Our life was turned upside down and my father was never the same after that. We lost our anchor, the one who held a family of seven girls and three boys together. I was living in NYC at the time with one of my sisters and her family. Our mother’s oldest brother made the call. We were told that it would be better for everyone if we didn’t come home for the funeral. It wasn’t easy going in and out of the country at that time. The more practical side of it was to save the money and use it for our siblings’ education. Years later I realized the wisdom of the family’s decision but to this day, when her anniversary comes around, I need to take out my pruning shears. Not an option in February.

Grief was not hard to handle at that time. I wasn’t in the house where she was a constant presence. We hardly had any phone calls because our little town did not have phone service. Letters were our only means of communication. The airmail letters took at least 10 days. Her reply would come maybe a month later. The distance between us made denial easy. The office was shocked when I showed up for work the next day. What would I have done? There was no place to go. My two nieces, both under five at that time, couldn’t understand why their Mom cried in the middle of dinner, or while she was doing laundry or cooking. We both waited to see if Inay would come to us in our dreams or give us signs it was okay. Nothing.

Someone told me that Inay was so good God gave her reward in Heaven. Really? She got married at 17. She had 11 children, mostly 18 months apart. She survived the loss of a newborn. And although she had help, she ran the whole household, helped with Tatay’s business, managed our farms. A born diplomat she was constantly dealing with unmarried sisters-in-law who all had opinions on how the children should be raised. Her own siblings had opinions too. All I could think of was how hard she worked. I was, at 24 years old, very angry. It wasn’t fair.

I had to face the reality of her death when I went for a visit six years later. Her beautiful garden was gone. The aquariums were empty. So where the bird cages. No orchids. No roses. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Inay wasn’t there to tend to them. Everyone had moved on. My sister and brother had young families to take care of . The others were all in college. The home I conveniently froze in my mind no longer existed.

It wasn’t until I became a mother myself that I realized that perhaps I had a one-sided view of her life. She must have experienced the same joy I did each time my daughter reached a milestone. She must have felt rewarded when her children (at least some of us) brought home report cards loaded with A’s and A++.There was a drawer in her bedroom where all our report cards, ribbons and awards were stored. Sadly, nobody knew what happened to them. She must have gotten the same kind of pride when my daughter’s teacher would tell me what a wonderful student she is. There are no words to describe the feeling when I saw my daughter in her red toga beaming with her college diploma. Inay lived long enough to see two of her daughters graduate from college. She was so happy when she hung a sign Attorney–at-Law in our porch for the whole town to see. That’s her daughter!

If there is truth to the Catholic belief that the dead can see us from heaven, then Inay would be very happy to see how well her brood turned out to be. From the time I can remember it was drilled in our heads that we have to finish college. We all did. When she would get frustrated with Tatay she would say “ladies…don’t get married, go to a convent instead.” The funny thing is that one of us is a cloistered nun. She did so well she was made Mother General of the Congregation for eight years.

I am amazed how often I see Inay in my siblings. One of us loves to make pickles and preserves. Some of my sisters are very good with the sewing machine. One of us makes leche flan just like hers. I share her love affair with ice cream. My brother has an uncanny way of remembering what kind of food each sister loves. And to our husbands’ and children’s dismay, our Inay loved to nag…. And nag. And nag.

The anger is long gone but the wishful thinking is still there. She would have loved it here.

Ms. Palacio is a retired accountant from Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut.

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