La otra mamá vive hoy

Por: Erin Navarro

Había planeado contar mi historia pero mi mamá acaba de trascender el pasado 10 de abril, y me gustaría hablar de ella.

La historia de mi mamá es una historia de migración rebelde y amor. Ella emigró hace 24 años y cuando lo hizo su corazón se fragmentó para siempre. Vivió llena de culpas por haber dejado a sus 3 hijas en México, solo trajo a mi hermano de 5 años con ella. Ella emigró por amor, por amor a ella misma saliendo de una relación donde no era valorada, y no era validada, su esposo, mi padre la empujó y la corrió durante el último de sus embarazos, también recuerdo como mi padre llegaba borracho y la golpeaba, cuando yo era una niña. Mi madre siempre fue una mujer trabajadora y de muchas habilidades y talentos. Mi madre era su crochet. Mi madre era sus tejidos Mi madre era sus poesías Mi madre era su pozole. Mi madre era su pay de queso. Mi madre eran sus novelas turcas Mi madre eran sus libros, su tai chi, su yoga,sus caminatas por la tarde,  su café instantáneo con leche y sus galletitas con leche para desayunar. 

Mi madre era su música de los Beatles, mi madre era su música de Juan Gabriel y las canciones de Il Volo en italiano. 

Mi madre era su joyería Ella era amante del arte. De niña a mis hermanos y a mí, nos llevaron a toda clase de actividades: teatro, ballet, danzas hawaiianas, dibujo y artes plásticas. Ahora llevamos los recuerdos y el amor a las artes en el corazón.

Se siente irreal que no esté, no vio uno de sus más grandes sueños consolidarse, que mis dos hermanas vinieran a Estados Unidos. Mis hermanas ahora están en proceso, hace más de 20 años que envió las solicitudes y estaba muy cerca de lograrlo ya habíamos comenzado el proceso, ya solo faltaba enviar unos documentos corregidos, pero no alcanzamos. Ella no alcanzará  a ver ese sueño cumplido, porque se fue. 

Yo se que ella era muy fuerte y ella resistió, fue positiva hasta el ultimo dia de su vida, tenía tantos sueños, quería poner su tienda de joyería, quería comprar una casita, una aquí y una en México.

Mi madre cuido sola de mi hermano, trabajó mucho, pero estamos en un sistema social y político que la limitó aunque se llame sueño americano, aunque mucha gente lo consiga. Ella era una madre autónoma que le faltó guía para conocer el sistema,cuidando a su hijo, pensando y soñando a sus hijas en México cada día de su vida, pero tenía muchas ganas de vivir, iba a clases de inglés hasta sus 68 años. Ella quería seguir aprendiendo, siempre investigaba programas y recursos en la comunidad.

La Jefa vive en los corazones de todos los que la conocimos como la persona amorosa que fue. Viva la migración rebelde que transforma vidas generaciones. Viva la migración del amor propio y familiar.

Con todo mi amor para Angeles Romero “La Jefa”.

The Other Mother Lives Today 

By: Erin Navarro

I had planned to tell my story but my mother just passed away on April 10th and I would like to talk about her.

My mother's story is a story of rebellious migration and love. She emigrated to the United States  24 years ago and when she did, her heart fragmented forever. She lived full of guilt for having left her 3 daughters in Mexico, she only brought my 5-year-old brother with her.

She emigrated for love, for love for herself having left a relationship where she was not valued, and was not validated. Her husband, my father, pushed her and kicked her out during the last days of her pregnancies.  I also remember  how when I was a girl,  my father would arrive drunk and hit her.

Yet,my mother was always a hardworking woman with many skills and talents. My mother was her crochet, my mother was her textiles, my mother was her poetry, my mother was her jewelry.

My mother was her pozole,  my mother was her cheesecake, her instant coffee with milk and her cookies and milk for breakfast

My mother was her Turkish novels. My mother was her books, her tai chai, her yoga and her afternoon walks.  

My mother was the music of the Beatles, my mother was her music by Juan Gabriel and the songs of Il Volo in Italian. 

As a child, my mother took my sisters and my brother to all kinds of activities: theater, ballet, Hawaiian dances, drawing and plastic arts.Now we carry the memories and love of the arts in our hearts.

She took care of my brother by herself, she worked a lot, but we are in a social and political system that limited her. Even though it is called the American dream, even though many people achieve it. 

She was an autonomous mother who lacked guidance to know the system, taking care of her son, thinking and dreaming of her daughters in Mexico every day of her life.She really wanted to live, she went to English classes until she was 68 years old, she wanted to continue learning, she always researched programs and resources in the community

I know that she was very strong. She resisted and was positive until the last day of her life. At her age, she had so many dreams left to achieve. She wanted to open her jewelry store, buy a little house, one here and one in Mexico.

It feels unreal that she is not here, that she did not see one of her greatest dreams come true. That my two sisters are finally able to come to the United States, for more than 20 years my sisters have been going through the immigration process. More than 20 years ago she sent the applications and she was very close to achieving it. After all that time all that was left to do was to send some corrected documents, but we were not able to do so in time. Now, she won’t be able to see that dream come true, because she is gone.

La Jefa lives in the hearts of all of us who knew her as the loving person she was.

Long live the Rebel migration that transforms lives for generations. Long live the migration of self and family love.

With all my love for Angeles Romero “La Jefa”