Let Their Spirits Dance (33 page)

“We got that from your daughters and have already spoken to him. The doctor can't operate at this point. She'd never make it out of surgery. We're doing the best we can for her.” Then she looks at me and holds my hand. “I'm sorry. She'll get the best care here. If there's anybody else you have to call…would you like a priest or chaplain to come see her?”

The tips of my fingers are icicles. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Ah…a priest. We're Catholic—she's very traditional—from the old society of Las Guadalupanas, that's what they call themselves.”

“I see. We do have a priest, but he's gone for the evening. I can call him to come back tonight.”

“Yes, do that.” I'm shivering. My lips are trembling. The nurse tells everybody we have to take turns in Mom's room. Donna says she'll stay with me in the room. Priscilla doesn't look at me as she walks out.

I take Mom's hand in mine. She opens her eyes and looks at me like she's searching for me in a crowd. She struggles to focus.

“It's me, Mom. Don't try to say anything. Everything will be OK. The doctors here are very good, remember we're in la capital, where they have the very best.”

She whispers, “God is the very best. Whatever He wants, He'll do.” I want to tell her to stop talking about Him but decide not to.

“Stop crying,” I tell Donna. “Mom doesn't need to hear all that.” Donna blows her nose on a Kleenex.

“I can't believe this is happening,” she says.

“Well it is,” I tell her, trying to sound strong.

Paul is standing at the door of Mom's room. He motions me to come out.

“We just got a call from the Vietnamese man from Little Saigon. He's here in D.C. He's on his way to the hospital.”

“He's coming here? Who is he?”

“He doesn't say. Just that he'll be right over.”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing, just wait. We'll listen to whatever he has to say.”

I return to Mom's room and sit with her in silence. She has gone to sleep. I hold her hand, and it lies limp and still in mine. I smile as I see her fingernails, polished red by the twins. I'm wondering what the visit from the Vietnamese man means for all of us. Did he know Thom? How will all this affect Mom?

I look at Donna and whisper, “The man from Little Saigon is on his way to the hospital.”

Donna's blue eyes get big. “Who is he?” I shrug my shoulders. Mom's eyelids flutter, and Donna starts to cry all over again. I put my finger up to my lips to make her stop, but it's no use. I shake my head, and watch Donna cry softly into her Kleenex. Not more than an hour goes by before Paul walks into Mom's room.

“They're here,” he whispers to me.

“They?”

“You'll see.”

Chris meets me as soon as I walk out of Mom's room. “She's here!” he says. “She's really here!”

“What are you talking about? Who's here?”

“Thom!” The name causes a chain reaction to go through my body. It's as if I've said her name every day of my life. It takes a few seconds for me to speak again.

“You mean Thom, Jesse's girlfriend from Vietnam?”

“His wife! She just told me they got married over there! And their son!”

“
Their
son?”

“They had a son together.”

“Oh, my God!” Chris leads me out to the lobby area, and standing before me is a Vietnamese family. The woman is beautiful, petite, with short black hair brushed in waves around her face. She's wearing a pair of loose-fitting dark pants and a flowered blouse. Next to her is a man that looks so much like Jesse, my knees bend all the way this time. I stumble forward, and Chris blocks my fall.

“Take it easy, Teresa. It's them, it really is!” Chris leads me by the hand, as if I'm sleepwalking.

“Thom, this is Teresa, Jesse's sister.” I see crinkles in Thom's neck and a gold necklace with a small jade elephant hanging at her throat. Her face is silky smooth, her voice calm, refined.

“I'm so glad to meet you,” she says. Her eyes fill with tears. She nods her head slightly. I reach over and hug her, a soft hug that makes me know I'm not dreaming. We look at each other and see Jesse between us. He's in the pupils of our eyes, two women who loved him. With one look, we know more about each other than if we had lived as neighbors all our lives.

“Yes…I'm so glad to meet you, too,” I tell her. “You have no idea how happy I am to meet you!”

“Jesse's son,” she says, drawing her arm through her son's. “This is Lam.”

“Lam.” I say his name, and it sounds so strange on my lips. “Lam…” I look at him and see the smile I recognized from my cradle. The dark features, the eyebrows straight, not curving, the perfect teeth. He's several inches taller than me.

“Jesse was my father. This is my son,” he says, holding the hand of a child about four years old. “This is Joshua Ramirez! Say hi to your aunt, Joshua.”

“Joshua Ramirez! Oh, my God, you've carried on the family name! Jesse must be clapping his hands in heaven!” I look deeply into Lam's and Joshua's eyes, and for the first time Don Florencío's prophecy makes sense…
a new form—your brother will come back in a new form. Our ancestors have always walked the earth
.

Joshua looks solemnly at me, “Hi,” he says, and I go down on one knee and kiss both cheeks. Already, Lisa and Lilly are standing around him.

“Mom, how cute! He's adorable!”

“We flew in from Little Saigon in Orange County, California,” Lam says.

“Yes, my nephew, Michael, told me you were sending us messages from there.”

“My wife is visiting in the real Saigon, in Vietnam, but now it's called Ho Chi Minh City. Look, there he is,” Lam says, pointing to Michael. “That's the boy I've been talking to on the Internet!”

Michael walks over and Lam shakes his hand over and over again. “Good job! You helped me find my father's family! Good job! Very smart boy!” Michael is smiling big, puffing up his chest. “I work for a computer company, we can talk…very smart boy!”

“See, I told you, Tía, Nana's web page is a winner!”

“Yes, it is a winner! You were right, Michael. But Lam,” I ask, “how is it that you never knew where Jesse lived?”

“Well, that's a sad story in my family,” he says. “You see, when my mother left Vietnam her father forbade her to look for him. My grandfather was an officer for the South Vietnamese Army and was already in big trouble with the communists. To make matters worse my mother was pregnant with me, the baby of an American soldier. Her whole village was burned to the ground, everything destroyed. She wasn't able to save even one letter with my father's address on it. Her family barely escaped Vietnam with their lives. They had to climb on river boats to make their escape.”

“But what about the marriage? I thought they were married.”

“My father never accepted my marriage,” Thom says. She shakes her head sadly, “Never. Over the years, I accepted my fate, and yet, I prayed for the day I would find Jesse's family. And now look, here we are all together—a miracle!”

Everyone standing around us looks like still-life pictures to me. No one is moving a muscle, as I turn around and announce, “This is Jesse's family from Little Saigon in Orange County, California!”

Everyone comes up to shake hands. Thom and Lam walk up to Irene, and hold her hands.

“Si!” Irene says. “I can see that this is Jesse's son! And Jesse's wife is so beautiful!”

Thom and Lam turn to Paul, looking at him closely.

“He looks like your father!” Thom says to her son.

“Jesse was better-looking,” Paul says with a wink.

“I'll be right back,” I tell Thom.

I walk into Mom's room with Ricky and Priscilla. Priscilla stands on one side of the bed, Ricky and I stand on the other. I take one of Mom's hands in mine.

“Mom, there's something I have to tell you, something very impor
tant.” She opens her eyes and sighs, then looks at Ricky standing next to me and recognizes him. Tears start.

“It's me…Doña…It's Ricky.”

“I know it's you, Ricky,” Mom says. “Your mother,” Mom whispers, “how's Juanita, mijo?”

“She's fine, Doña. She's in San Jose.” Mom smiles and closes her eyes.

“My old neighbor—your mother, such a hard worker. I never knew I would see you here, mijo. You and Teresa used to play together. I thought someday you would marry her, but then you went away.”

“I'm here now, Doña.”

“Mom—there's someone else you have to meet tonight!” I tell her. “She came a long way to see you. It's someone who knew Jesse in Vietnam. Mom, are you listening?” She nods her head. “Mom, she came with someone else, too.” Mom senses the electricity in my voice and opens her eyes.

“Who? What are you talking about?” She looks closely at me. “Why are you all dressed up, mija? Am I dead yet? Is this my funeral?”

“No, Mom, you're not dead! Listen to me…keep your eyes open. You'll see something…but don't get scared, OK? Remember you said Jesse was calling you here? I believe you now!”

I walk to the hall and motion for Paul to bring in Thom, Lam, and Joshua. The nurse sees what's happening and doesn't say a word to us. I hold Thom's hand and lead her to Mom's side.

“Mom—open your eyes. Here she is.” Mom opens her eyes and sees Thom. She stares at her, surprised. Her eyes take in Thom's face.

“Mom—this is Jesse's wife—he married her in Vietnam!”

“Jesse's wife?”

“Yes, isn't she beautiful?” Mom nods. Tears are streaming down her face. Thom puts her arms around Mom's shoulders and kisses her forehead.

“Mother-in-law,” she says. “I loved your son. He was a very good man. He treated me with love. He was a good husband for me.” She brings Lam to her side. “Look!” she says. Mom stares at Lam and sits up in bed, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Jesse!” she cries. “You made me a grandmother!” She leans back on the pillows and reaches for Lam. Lam tenderly hugs Mom, then lets her kiss each finger of his hands as she kissed Jesse's when he left for Vietnam. She traces a cross over Lam's forehead.

“Ay está mi Dios, there is my God, a witness to this miracle. I came
without knowing what I would be given today! This is what Jesse was telling me that night—that he had a wife, a son, a grandson!”

Lam brings Joshua over. My mother is laughing and crying at the same time, holding onto Joshua. “Mira no mas, I'm a great-grandmother too! Así es, mijo! Well done, Jesse!”

Ricky wraps his arms around my waist, standing behind me, letting me rest on his body. Priscilla is crying. She comes over and puts her face into my shoulder.

“I'm sorry. I was wrong. Mom had to be here.” I hold my sister, and we both balance on Ricky. Manuel walks in, and puts his hands on Priscilla's shoulders.

“It's OK, Priscilla—how you felt,” he says. “It was only normal.”

My mother is talking to Lam. “Now I can die in peace,” she says.

“Don't talk about dying, grandmother,” Lam says. “I barely met you. I don't want to lose you now.”

“Tell me,” my mother says to Thom. “Tell me about my son, about the things he said to you.”

“He told me he loved you very much. That you held up the plane going to Vietnam with a cookie you wanted to give him. That you were so good to him—such a good mother.” She smiles gently.

“Did he talk about his father?”

“He only said he had a father that forgot him sometimes, but still loved him.”

“Was he happy—my son? Was he ever happy in Vietnam?” Mom is holding Thom's hands, pressing her hands up to her face, wanting to touch the woman who touched her son.

“Yes. Together, we were happy. We were married by a priest, Father John. I am proud to have him for my husband.”

“Gracias, thank you Santo Niño, Virgencita. God was with my son in Vietnam. What more could I ask for?” Mom closes her eyes and her face relaxes into a perfect smile.

Irene goes back to the hotel with Sarah and brings the things on their altar to set up in Mom's room. The nurse gives permission for one candle to be lit. Then Irene does what Guadalupanas have done for ages. She sits at the head of Mom's bed and directs Donna and Sarah to take turns at the foot of the bed. In this way she lives out the tradition of Las Guadalupanas by providing guardians stationed one at the head and one at the foot of the dying Guadalupana until the bitter end. They drape el listón around Mom's neck, the ribbon of the Society of Las
Guadalupanas. It's red, white, and green, the colors of the Mexican flag, symbols of La Virgen. And they wait…and they pray.

 

• M
Y MOTHER DIED
Saturday afternoon, June 7, at 3:24
P.M.
, on the day she was to complete la manda to touch my brother's name. Just before she died, she clung to Thom's and Lam's hands. The perfect smile she had relaxed into stayed on her face after her death. So much was happening to all of us it was like rain falling from everywhere, I had no time to break down. There was nothing left for us to do but release my mother's body to be prepared for the trip back to Phoenix. Irene chose her burial clothes and sent along Mom's Virgen medallion and el listón, the red, white, and green ribbon, to be draped over her shoulders. They say God will see the ribbon and recognize her as one of His own. Mom packed a dress in her suitcase, white with a fringe of lace at the collar and sleeves. The twins ask me to tell the funeral people to take the red polish off Mom's fingernails. They say it was only for the Wall, and they don't think their Nana would want to wear it at her own funeral. I tell them, maybe she would, after all.

“Look at this!” I tell Irene, holding up Mom's dress. “Did she know she was going to die?”