Stories: Who We Have Lost

Make Them Anyway

Who did you lose to Covid 19? Rogelio "Ro" Lechuga

We are celebrating Christmas without you for the second time this year. My therapist told me that I treat it very much like the first. My therapist said that I get to choose what I want to do. Right now, making decisions is the hardest part of my life. We didn’t move our right hand for twenty-three years without the other one knowing. Now it’s just me. I am calling all the shots. I didn’t ask for this.

I kept asking the kids what we should make for Noche Buena and Christmas Day. I wasn’t surprised to get the response of should shrugs, and I dunno. I put my head into my hands and sobbed. I don’t want to do this. Can’t I sleep until it is January 2nd? Why isn’t that an option? As tears as big as diamonds dropped down my cheeks, I heard you say, “Make them anyway.”

What to make? We loved pizza, calzones, ham, turkey; you name it, we made it. Every year was a different cuisine. As I looked in my Facebook memories, I felt my heart say, as I stared at that dreaded picture, tamales. I am a midwestern girl. Before I met you, I didn’t know what a tamale was. I even remember asking if I ate the husk. I flashbacked to the memories of feeding you raw tamales and our long conversations over them. No way, it’s not happening. Not at least this year.

One day later, it kept chipping away at me. Make the tamales. I don’t have a steamer. I honestly can’t remember how to do them. Can’t I buy some and call it a day. Finally, after a temper tantrum in the shower, I got onto instacart and ordered the things to make tamales. I can always freeze the stuff if I can’t do it, I thought as I put the dishes away.

Last night, I sat at the table, everything spread out. After looking at the first husk, I decided, “I’m gonna do that.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. Both boys saw me and offered their support. Their help this time was much appreciated. It was hard to let go, but I must carry on this tradition. We sat at that table and talked about you. We remembered how you laughed, how you ate so many you would swear we would never make them again. I looked at my boys, and I felt you with us. I didn’t want that day to end.

It was hard at first, but I am glad we made the tamales. They were your traditions, and I intend to continue them. Even if it is hard, make them anyway. It’s the little things that matter.

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