This is our first Christmas without Aunt Becky. She died on January 22, 2021 due to complications from COVID. Becky loved Christmas. If I close my eyes, I can still see her sitting at the piano playing the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” as we nieces and nephews crowded around her and sang along. That song has to be the world’s longest Christmas carol, but every year she obliged us even though Christmastime was her busy season.

Aunt Becky owned a flower shop in a tiny 4-stop-light-town, but she was a modern day florist, who could accommodate any request. She once even created an intricate flower hair accessory for a customer, just like the one Cher had worn on The Sonny & Cher Show. She was truly an artist who created dazzling fresh flower arrangements that everyone loved.

Each December, her flower shop held buckets of fragrant pine boughs, long stemmed-red roses, and peppermint striped carnations to name a few. The demand was so great that she could barely keep up with the orders. So when I became a teenager, she enlisted me to be her assistant.

I was helping Aunt Becky one snowy afternoon when the greenhouse delivery truck made its stop. As the driver opened the giant door at the back of the truck, we were enveloped by the scent of thousands of flowers hitting our noses all at once. The mingling fragrances of gardenias, roses, lilies, carnations and pine branches created a heavenly scent. I was so happy when my aunt let me climb into the cool, damp truck with her while she made her selections. I had never seen so many flowers in all my life. There were hundreds and hundreds of metal buckets of colorful fresh flowers packed tightly from ceiling to floor. I will never forget it.

People still talk about my Aunt Becky’s festive Christmas arrangements, and I think that’s because she worked meticulously on each one, making it just right. To me, it was always a bit sad that those beautiful fresh flowers would only last a couple of weeks. But all these years later, I know that the feeling lives on long after the flowers fade. This year I will be sure to buy fresh flowers for my dinner table, and as I breathe in the scent of Christmas, I will think of her.

I met Jody on Sunday, June 28, 1987. An early morning thunderstorm had chased away a prolonged period of heat and humidity and left behind an azure blue sky. It was at the Dance on the Pier that followed the annual Heritage of Pride March in New York City. While waiting to meet up with friends, I saw a tall, smiling, young man walking toward me. “Hi, I’m Jody,” he said. “I’m Ed,” I replied. That was the start of a relationship that persevered for thirty-three years.

Over the next few weeks and months, we got to know about each other. We laughed because, in so many ways, we were opposites. Jody was born in Florida and raised in Texas. I came from Massachusetts. Jody was always spur of the moment while I always wanted things to be planned out in advance. I valued promptness while Jody figured we would get there when we got there. There were so many ways we were different. But it was those differences that glued us together.

During those first two months together, I noticed that when we were walking together, Jody would frequently veer off toward the left. He also started to complain of blind spots in his field of vision. He underwent many tests and several months later he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Within two years, the MS had progressed to the point where he needed to use a wheelchair full-time. Throughout the rest of his life, he promised that he would walk again. He exercised daily to keep his legs strong. His determination is one of the things I miss about Jody. When he set his mind to something, he accomplished it.

Another aspect of Jody that was so endearing was his love of animals. Around the time he was diagnosed with MS, one of his neighbors had beaten a young cat, broken its pelvis and dumped it in the hallway of Jody’s apartment building. Jody found the cat, which he named Quito, and nursed her back to health. They were forever bonded and when she passed many years later Jody was crushed. I think they had been destined for each other at a time they both needed someone.

Over the years, Jody and I rescued nearly fifteen other cats and two dogs. I will always remember his gentleness with them. Among his favorites was a Russian Blue that Jody named Smokey. When we first met her at the shelter, Smokey reached her front paws up around his neck and buried her head against his chest. That sealed the deal. I look back and smile at the number of times I found Jody napping with Smokey wrapped in his arms. Another funny story comes to mind. Jody used an electric scooter that gave him the freedom to get outside and live independently. When our first dog got old and arthritic, Jody would lift her onto the platform of his scooter and drive her around the neighborhood, stopping now and then to let her step off and take care of business. The dog’s name was Daisy and all the neighbors kidded Jody about his version of “Driving Miss Daisy.”

In recent years, Jody’s MS worsened and he needed help with day-to-day activities. Because his vision was not so good, he enjoyed watching television. He was an aficionado of Star Trek in all its incarnations. He used to drive me crazy because he would recite the dialogue before it happened in the program. I was never a fan of Star Trek, but I find myself missing watching those shows with him.

2020 arrived along with COVID-19. We did everything to protect ourselves. We isolated at home. I only went out to buy groceries for the week, masked and gloved and physically distanced. It turns out that was not enough. By Easter, Jody had developed a high fever. I called 911 and the EMT’s explained that his lungs and blood oxygen levels were okay. When asked if he wanted to go to the hospital, he said no, he would be fine. But within three days, his breathing became labored and his blood oxygen levels dropped to a dangerous level. He had to go to the hospital. As the EMT’s loaded him into the ambulance, he waved to me and called out that he would be home soon. There was that determination again. He would walk again. He would be home soon. As the ambulance drove off, I wished I had that same confidence.

Just before Jody passed on April 19, 2020, I was allowed to go to the hospital to see him. I was lucky. He was in a coma but I believe he was waiting for me to come to say goodbye. He passed peacefully right after I left. That was his last act of love. For thirty-three years, I thought I was the one caring for him. But, in the end, it was Jody who looked out for me. When I think of him now, I see him running around with Quito and Smokey and Daisy and our other pets who have passed. He is definitely walking again. Promises kept.

My Dad and Mom were together since senior year. This year was their 49th anniversary. On Jan 26th, they both were picked up by 2 different ambulances, taken to 2 different hospital. Dad was intubated within a day, Mom on Feb 7th. On Feb 8 at 12:34, Covid took our mom, dad’s queen. Somehow he knew, and followed her at 4:13 am, a few hours later. Dad did not want a world without his reina. Days later, my siblings and I buried them together. Together forever. Miss you Mom and Dad. Till we meet again!

When my mom, dad, and my brother Keith died, a part of me died too. It was an honor and privilege to be the daughter of Dan and Irene and the sister of Keith. My brother Kevin and I were blessed to be part of such a kind and loving family. Let me tell you about who we lost:

My mother, Irene Cruz, was my best friend. Whenever anything happened in my life – good or bad – my mom was the first person I wanted to speak to. We spoke every day and she always made time for me and said just the right thing. She had me when she was very young and she made a lot of sacrifices to give me a good life. She always wanted the best for me. Ever since I was a little girl, she encouraged me in everything I did. It was important to her to instill in me the idea that I could achieve anything I set my mind to.

My mother was caring and selfless, took care of everyone, and always put her family’s needs first. I used to say, “Mom, you should do more things for yourself,” but she wouldn’t hear any of it. She didn’t like anyone telling her what to do.

My mom was my rock. I am lost without her and my heart aches to talk to her. I learned so many things from her and I could not have asked for a better mother. If I needed anything, she and my dad would drop everything to come and bring me whatever they thought would be helpful.

They were married for 52 years and were extremely devoted to each other. When my father, Arthur “Dan” Cruz, was young, he would wash his car every day when Irene was walking home from school just to see her walk by. And when he fell in love with my mom, he chose to be my dad. “You will always be my girl,” he would tell me.

My father was fiercely protective of me and I cannot recall a time that he wasn’t there for me. When I went through a divorce, he postponed his retirement so that if I needed any help financially, he would be able to take care of me. He was my absolute hero, the smartest man I’ve ever known. He could fix anything, figure out anything. I was amazed by everything he could do. He was kind and big hearted. He loved animals and even at times when he did not have a dog in the house, he continued to buy dog biscuits and fill his pockets with treats, just in case he might run into a dog that day.

My parents loved their grandchildren just as much as their children. They truly lived their lives for their family and would do anything for us. Every important moment of my life included mom and dad.

Like my dad, my brother Keith had a very tender heart. When we were little, he wanted nothing more than to just hang out with me and my friends. He would even let us dress him up – just so he could stay and play with us. I was seven when he was born. Then when Keith was five, Kevin was born. They were always best buddies and Keith looked out for Kevin. As they grew older, they shared the same friends and they would all gather at my parent’s house. Our home was full of love and laughter.