Cynthia Jordan

My Tita

 Today if you were to meet our Tita, you would have to visit a nursing home in Torrance, California. There is a beautiful patio with a fountain in the center of the building where a very kind nurse named ?Rosa? wheels her out for fresh air.

You would see a frail, 90 lb. woman, with cotton white hair, wrinkled skin and no teeth. She has no recognition of her loved ones and doesn?t even  know her, we see an elegant lady, who has lived her 97 years, filled with passion. When I look at Tita, I see a beautiful woman who had a glorious love affair with a very handsome man, Alberto Solis. 

As Tita sleeps peacefully in her hospital bed, I see a sophisticated lady who has traveled all around the world. After the untimely death of my grandfather, Tita and her sister Julie went to places most people only dream of visiting. Hawaii, Japan, China, Russia, France, Italy, Germany and England were among their many destinations. Tita had a Betty Davis style and loved her 4 o?clock ?copitas?, which was either a shot of gold tequila or a Beefeater martini strait up with extra olives, (on the side as not to disperse any content from the glass).

        As the nurses and attendees walk in and out of Tita?s room, I want to stop each one of them and tell her story. This is not just any little old lady. This is my Tita!

 I shout it silently from my heart as I watch the kindly hospital staff patiently tend to her.  She met Pancho Villa for heaven sakes!  She has seen the world!  Do you know who this woman is? 

Even now, everybody falls in love with Tita.  She blows kisses and tells the people who feed and bathe her that she loves them. Although her mind and body is deteriorating, Tita?s spirit is alive and well. Her eyes still sparkle with love. Sometimes I can even see that light of mischievousness that once gleamed when she?d play Canasta, spin the Roulette Wheel or bargain with the vendors as we shopped in Juarez. Pero Senor? Somos Mexicanos, she would say with a sly smile and that funny little glint in her eye. That look would always get us a great price!

As I look down the hallway of the nursing home, it occurs to me, each of these rooms has a Tita. Every frail, hunched over body with cotton white hair has a unique story filled with love, loss, pain, happiness and life adventure. Most of them survived the Depression and experienced World War II. They were before TV, studied in one room school houses and if you asked them, they could tell you about a time when you could see a picture show and buy a hamburger and a coke all for about a quarter.

Today, Tita is very much like a new baby. She is fed pureed food, wears diapers and she looks with wonder around the room as if she sees angels floating around the ceiling. Sometimes as she looks, she points and calls out to her loved ones who have passed on. She sees little girls in white dresses playing with their dolls, family members and friends. She smiles, laughs and even speaks to them with love. One day I witnessed this with my uncle. 

Oh Cindy, he said with tender sadness. Our little Tita is hallucinating.

I smiled back at him, and as the tears filled my eyes, I quietly said, Just because we can?t see them, Uncle Dickie, doesn?t mean they?re not there.

I think they are, ready to welcome her home.