I heard a car idling outside at 4 am. Who idles at 4 am? I wondered. Was it my dad? No it couldn’t be. It was way too early even for my dad. I didn’t even bother looking at my phone. After a couple of minutes Sean stirred and eventually went to the door. It was my dad.

He was an hour early for his 5 am appointment. Two days before I had arranged for dad to give Sean a ride to the airport. On Tuesday morning Sean learned that his close friend of 12 years, Kevin, passed away suddenly. Sean booked a flight to NY to attend the services. Although I got to know Kevin too, I opted to stay home due to the expense. I enlisted my dad for a ride to the airport to save money on a cab or shuttle.

Sean got dressed and ready. He came back in to the room and said, “Your dad wants to talk to you.”

I walked slowly out to the living room and saw dad in the dark. He gave me a hug.

“Mija, I wanted to tell you. Mamá Toni is now in heaven. It just happened right now. At 3:05.” He drew me in closer. “She went away very peacefully. We were monitoring her.”

Oh. This was the second time in 48 hours I had been informed of a death after just waking up. Kevin was 36, his death was sudden and unexpected. Mamá Toni was 92 and for the past 8 months or so we knew she was quite ill. On Sunday when I saw her last, she stayed in bed all day and woke intermittently to greet the many family visitors who stopped by. We knew her death was imminent and the team of family nurses and caretakers (dad, mom, aunts, uncles and cousins) were working diligently to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.

“I wanted to tell you now, in case you want to come back with me after I take Sean. She’s still there, we haven’t called the nurse and mortuary yet.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

I had already planned to take Xavi to spend a day or two at my mom’s while Sean was in New York. There’s more space for him to run around plus I could get a little help when I needed it. And there’s the bonus that he cheers up Papá Chepe and everyone else.

Oh. My heart sank. Papá Chepe.

Dad seemed to read my mind.

“He hasn’t woken up yet. We haven’t told him.”

I told dad we’d get ready and go back to Hacienda Heights with him. I wanted to let Xavi sleep a little longer. Sean hugged me tight and offered to cancel his trip but I told him no, he should go to Kevin’s funeral and see his friends. We would be okay and I wouldn’t be alone. I did ask him to pack up some things for Xavi.

Once dad and Sean left, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I lay with Xavi at my side going through all my Flickr photos tagged “mamatoni.”. There are over 200. Most are from the past 10 years when I first got a digital camera.

There are dozens at the January anniversary parties, birthdays, and holidays.

And then there are the oddball ones of her riding Buzz Lightyear Astroblasters at Disneyland or Adrian dancing kinda crazy with her. (That one isn’t goofy, but I love their expressions.)

And there are the heart melting ones of her kissing Papá Chepe or holding a newborn Xavi.

She adored Xavi.

My favorite is the one above, which I titled “matriarch” from Mother’s Day 2006. Her face is fuller, her hair shows no grays (she still insisted on dying), she’s in tan rather than her signature lavender. I love her “let me tell you” expression. And mainly, I like that she’s somewhat smiling. It wasn’t easy to get a photo of Mamá Toni smiling.

When dad returned I got ready. I drove my car and he followed behind. Xavi woke up in the transition from bed to car seat. I sang to him on the way to HH. “You Got A Friend In Me” was tough. I cried for Mamá Toni and Papá Chepe and for Kevin and Sean.

We got home to find several cars and aunts and uncles sitting soberly having coffee and donuts. The door to Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni’s room was closed.

When my aunts opened it, they told me they had just told Papá Chepe. I went in to the room. He was being consoled by my mom and her sisters.

Mamá Toni was in her bed at the other end of the room. I touched her head and gave her a kiss. She felt cool but just looked like she was peacefully sleeping.

Papá Chepe was crying in a low wail. Really, I think the word “llanto” is more fitting. Llanto implies utter heartbreak and loss. And that’s what I imagine he feels after losing his wife and partner of 71+ years.

Someone asked if he wanted to see Mamá Toni, to touch her. He nodded yes and soon their two beds were side by side. Mamá Toni was on Papá Chepe’s left side, the side he can still move freely. He held her hand.

“We are here for you, your family is here and will continue being here,” my mom told Papá Chepe.

***

Over the rest of the morning more family members arrived. The funeral director and his assistant came a little after 9 to take Mamá Toni. And we paused to say the first of our goodbyes over the next week

***

I’ve been at my parents’ house since Thursday morning. Family members and friends have come to offer condolences and others are busy planning the services for next Wednesday and Thursday.

It’s nice to be around my immediate and extended family at this time if only for the distraction. The house is far from being lonely, but Mamá Toni’s absence is impossible to miss.

I don’t think that feeling will go away anytime soon. Mamá Toni and Papá Chepe have been part of my home since I was 9 years old and they were always part of family gatherings. It’s tough to think of home without Mamá Toni.

***

I’ve written about both my grandparents many times over the past 13 years of blogging. I know some of you will feel like you know Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni too. Or maybe you met them at some point.

Thank you for those who have prayed for my grandparents in these recent tough times. I deeply appreciate it. Please continue to keep us in your thoughts, especially Papá Chepe.

Less than a week after Papá Chepe’s stroke, I sat with mom in the kitchen, in the same chair grandpa typically sat in for his meals.

“What’s the likelihood he’ll be leaving the hospital any time soon?” I asked tentatively.

Mom sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Papá Chepe was still in the ICU. She listed some of the key reasons why he’d be under professional medical care for the foreseeable future. There was still fluid in his lungs, his blood pressure still got dangerously high and due to the stroke he could not move his tongue nor right side of his body. Thus, all nutrition was taken in via IV.

A recovery at that point seemed like a long shot. Coming home? That was a dream.

Over the next seven weeks, Papá Chepe stayed in the hospital. He was moved from ICU to the second floor for less critical patients. A week or so later, he was moved to a larger hospital a couple of miles away, but still in Whittier. When Sean and I visited Hospital 2 we were glad the lady at the check-in desk gave us a map. I surely would have gotten lost otherwise. Family members continued to take turns staying overnight and those who lived out of state flew or drove in to visit. There were less people in the waiting room, but it still felt like a mini-reunion at times.

On March 7th dad — self-appointed update sharer — sent a message starting with GOOD NEWS!! . The extra exclamation mark and all caps were warranted because after a meeting with hospice care and a home health care service, the extended family had unanimously decided to bring Papá Chepe home.

He ended his message with a request for assistance as the family readied our home for Papá Chepe.

I immediately replied.

Me: Amazing. Let us know how we can help. So happy!!!

Dad: Bring Xavi.

I asked dad how soon the move would be. He made it seem like Wednesday of the next week, Monday at the earliest. That weekend several family members gathered to start making my parent’s home more amenable for Papá Chepe’s needs. A dozen people worked from morning until night to get everything ready. The room that my grandparents shared would now be only for Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni and her bed had been moved to my brothers’ old room.

On Monday afternoon the bed and supplies were delivered. At 3:00 an ambulance transported Papá Chepe from Hospital 2 in Whittier back to the home he hadn’t been in since January 21st.

I wasn’t there when the medics wheeled Papá Chepe in on the stretcher. Instead, I saw the homecoming via Adrian’s phone. He took a short video of the dogs, VR and Daisy, circling around the living room. Daisy barked, which she always does with strangers and even family members. She’s funny like that. VR was quiet, but he knew something was happening. In the video, Adrian holds his phone in one hand and picks up VR with his free arm so he can Papá Chepe on the stretcher. Adrian said he was scared by the stretcher.

Over the next few days, Papá Chepe’s team of “nurses” — also known as half a dozen of my aunts, uncles and cousins — signed up for day and night shifts and received a crash course from the professionals on the basics.

I considered going that Monday, but mom said it would be better to go the next day.

***

Tuesday started off bad for me. I drove to work to save time, but was sent to a parking structure on the other side of campus and then stupidly locked my keys in the car. Fortunately, I’d taken out my phone, pump and wallet before I closed the door. I found out a few hours later that my roadside assistance had expired (confusing since I just used it in July). Sean helped me out and agreed to leave work early, go home and pick up the spare set of keys and take the bus to campus. I left earlier than planned for my hair appointment and got turned around in my own neighborhood thanks to some construction roadblocks. Still, I got to my appointment on time, got my hair colored for free (!) and was feeling much better when I got home. Sean and Xavi were ready to head out and visit Papá Chepe.

Any feeling I had of having a no good, very bad, horrible day changed as soon as I arrived at the house and brought Xavi in to see his great grandpa.

Papá Chepe seemed a little tired, but was glad to see us. He looked Xavi over, seemingly surprised by how much he had grown in just a couple of months. I was just glad to see him home even though it was a much different home.

***

Papá Chepe has been home for over six weeks. On the 19th, over two dozen family members crammed in to the living room and kitchen to celebrate a special Mass in honor of St. Joseph’s day, or el día del santo de Papá Chepe since he shares his name with the saint. Also, the Ureño family has always honored St. Joseph and a frame with his image has been passed down for a couple of generations. Over the past few years, we’ve celebrated the day with a Mass and a fundraiser for HOCATI, the Tijuana orphanage that Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni donated their home to 4 years ago.

I couldn’t help but think that in January I was sending text messages to my parents and brothers about how I had recently learned that St. Joseph was the patron saint of a happy death because he died with Mary and Jesus by his side. This time, I was thinking of how lucky we were to still have Papá Chepe and was even more amazed that he was sitting up in a wheelchair.

***

Dad and mom frequently send pictures to family members of Papá Chepe at home doing normal, everyday things.

There’s one of him outside with sunglasses and a paperboy cap. Mamá Toni is at his side. There’s another with Papá Chepe in the wheelchair taking VR and Daisy out for a walk. A third shows him enjoying the warmer spring days in the backyard he used to meticulously tend.

My favorite, naturally, is any photo of Papá Chepe and Xavi. Every time I see those photos, I’m so thankful that he’s home, that our family can care for him there and that each day he’s getting a little better.

Once again, we are so thankful for the many prayers, good wishes and thoughts.

I was in Wal-Mart near my parents’ house when a man stopped me.

“Mija, how is your grandpa doing?”

I tried to place him. He wasn’t a neighbor. Could he have been someone my parents know from church? Maybe I did know him and just didn’t recognize him as he had aged. My parents go to weekly Mass with my grandparents and surely their friends at church knew about Papá Chepe’s condition.

I didn’t know what to say so I just said he was doing a little better, he was stable.

Still, it was weird.

***

It’s been 4 weeks since Papá Chepe’s stroke and heart attack. His condition has improved somewhat. After a week he was moved from the ICU to another floor where patients were in less critical condition. The following week he was moved to another hospital in the area and handled the move well. The group text message updates from my dad go from daily to once every few days as there’s less pressing news on his condition.

We try to visit on the weekends. Every visit feels like a mini family reunion which is bittersweet. For the past ten years, we’ve been gathering every last weekend in January to celebrate the grandparents’ sixty-somethingth anniversary. This year was 71.

Whenever we visit, there’s no shortage of aunts, uncles and cousins in the waiting room to watch Xavi as Sean and I go to visit my grandpa. He looks less startling than he did in those first few visits. His arms are no longer bruised from the IV needles and there are less machines humming and beeping around him. He still holds our hands and if awake, he’ll stir and acknowledge our presence. Last time, while showing him pictures of Xavi on my phone, he took the phone from me and then placed it against his chest.

Mom: Do you want to cry?
Me: Huh?
Mom: I was showing Papá Chepe the calendar and saying, “es muy bonito el niño, no?” (The boy is really cute, no?) And he would nod, “yes.” Then he took the calendar from my hands and brought it closer to his face so he could see better. Then he placed the calendar over his heart and left it there.

Sometimes he’s cuddling a “get well” teddy bear at his side and it reminds me of the stuffed snake and mongoose he used to place beneath the rear window of his old car. He liked his odd, creepy animals.

***

Mamá Toni is mainly in good spirits, especially when Xavi is around. She asks for him as soon as he wakes up and dances/bounces him until her arms tire.

***

Thanks to all who offered kind words, thoughts and prayers. We really appreciate it.