There's the family that you're born into, and there's the family that we make. Big Stina was part of the latter, the matriarch of a very large American family of mostly Mexican descent. We took to each other immediately. She's likely up in Heaven or Valhalla or Olympus, proof-reading and editing the formal speeches of the Gods. When they held a celebration of her life, we were asked to speak or, if we couldn't attend, to write something. I chose the latter, as cross-country flights were too pricey for me.
Big Stina, or Smile When You Say That
She was formidable before I ever met Her;
The kind of person who commanded respect,
Whose name was a presence in and of itself: "Big" Stina –
Not big as in hefty, but big as in tall or regal or imposing
like a champion. She was all of that, and more.
I met Her when Time had become Her Adversary,
A diminisher of height but not stature,
A thief of vitality but not spirit.
We discovered a mutual love and respect for
Words, and languages, education and animals.
I addressed Her as "Matriarch" once, unprompted –
And She smiled, then laughed, and smiled again.
Whenever I think of Her now, I have to smile
and I remember Her laughter.
I'm sure all of you do, too.
That's something we all should strive for –
To engender and be surrounded
by love and laughter,
during life and the hereafter.
YOU ARE READING
Little Pieces in Search of A Bigger Picture
De TodoBits and Bots, odds and sods, flotsam and jetsam - one-shots, really short contest entries, lyrics for imaginary musicals, poems...random stuff that you don't trash because maybe they'll fit into something bigger one day.
