Our beloved Tia Gloria passed away on Saturday at the age of 95, after a short fight with cancer. I think she knew she had little time left, which was why she didn’t really put up a fight when Carlos wanted her to move back into the family home. This way she was surrounded by family as her health declined, and family was in the room with her as she breathed her last breath.
Gloria was a force … her brother, Carlos’ father, called her a witch, and not in the bitchy kind of way, but an actual witch. She was often called La Bruja, the witch, and it was a title she loved. But, like in Oz, she was a Good Witch not a Bad Witch.
Other than Carlos, Gloria was my first friend in Miami, and when I went to meet my future husband—though I didn’t know that at the time—and he had to work, she would take me around Miami, Over to Calle Ocho, and down to Little Havana; Coral Gables; Coconut Grove; Homestead. She took me to La Carreta where I had my first Caldo Gallego, and to this day when we go back, our first stop is La Carreta and that delicious Chicken Soup.
She took me to The Breakers in Palm Beach for a fancy lunch, and as we sat down, she asked me if I thought we should have a drink. I figured I’d let her set the tone and was prepared for her to order a White Zinfandel or a Strawberry Daiquiri or something. But La Bruja ordered a Kamikaze, and we toasted to our new friendship.
When I returned to Miami a few months later and began life with Carlos, she gave me a baseball cap, emblazoned with the word Angelito, because, to her she said, I was a Little Angel. OH, she came to find out I wasn’t so angelic, but to her I was always Angelito, and Carlos because The Other One.
She instantly made me a part of her family, and she instantly became my Tia. She eventually moved back to Mexico City but often came for visit, and when we moved to South Carolina, she would visit us here. Gloria’s favorite holiday was Thanksgiving—she loved the food and family, the same things I cherish—but as she was getting older, November in Camden was a bit cold. So, we would invite her up in March, as the weather here was turning warmer, for her birthday, and we would make her birthday dinner of turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce and pumpkin cheesecake. That’s my favorite memory of Gloria, smiling as we settled around the table and gave thanks to our Tia Bruja.
As with her life, Gloria’s death came on her own terms and when she was ready to go. We spoke every day, told we loved her, we would miss her, and that she could go when she was ready.
Last Saturday she was ready; she was holding the hand of a family member and closed her eyes for the last time. She was one of my first friends in Miami and became one of my treasured family members and I will miss her something awful.
I will miss her calls on my birthday and hearing her sing Happy Birthday through the phone. I will miss calling her on her birthday, and telling her that I really meant happy birthday, but if I sang, it wouldn’t be such a good thing.