Yesterday, I said goodbye to a very gentle and beautiful lady, Sarita Balli Hinojosa. I met Sarita through her husband, Joe, when Ralph and I joined the small church community at Holy Spirit Church over 15 years ago. Back then Sarita would stand quietly by her husband and listen to our plans to bring in more participants. Later, Sarita's and my conversations were about our daughters...my Diana and Adri at McHi and her Celestina at Nikki Rowe. Diana was a Stepper captain, Adri in band, and Celestina was in the Rowe Band. Both Diana and Celestina would be graduating in the year 2000. We experienced their Confirmation together and shared a love for crafts. We would see each other at Holy Spirit Catholic Church until 2006 when there was a big rift in our church and it seemed like we were split in half. Sarita and Joe continued at Holy Spirit. Ralph and I started church hopping.
Somewhere in there, Sarita was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn't know the severity of her illness during that time because despite her struggles, Sarita blossomed. Shy, gentle Sarita found her voice and her faith strengthened so that you never saw her sad. Quite the opposite, there was a peace about her...she knew something so many of us continue to seek.
This year, months would go by and no Sarita...Joe, yes, usually at our local H.E.B. where he would catch us up on Sarita's progress. Joe was always full of hope...Sarita WAS hope.
Ralph and I got into the habit of going to Adoration on Fridays. It was on those days Sarita would be heaviest on my mind. I would offer a rosary for her. But in September my own struggles were overwhelming me and I would think of Sarita and tell myself how Sarita would have a smile for everyone and anyone. My burden was nothing compared to what she was experiencing. She had gone into the hospital with a set back but was released after a while. I wondered how she was doing and the next day at Saturday mass, I saw Sarita and Joe. Sarita had good news...the doctors saw signs of remission. I was so thankful, so grateful to God for the good news...but it was short lived. A few weeks later in October, they told her she had only weeks to live.
I would have crumbled...but not Sarita, "it's in God's hand, and His will will be done." She continued her battle and I into my silence. There were no words I could say, nothing would come out. I admired her strength, her faith, and her love of the Lord. I could only smile an affirm that she was in God's arms. She made it through Thanksgiving. I was glad there was no news. She made it through Christmas... What did doctor's know, I thought.
On Friday, December 27th, Sarita took her last breath and joined our Lord.
This has been so devastating to me on so many levels. At her services were all the wonderful faces of my community family that was once so vibrant, so alive. Father Jerry - how I miss Father Jerry - was there to lead her mass. It reminded me of a painful, yet glorious time of my life when my small church faith community embraced me and saved my wretched soul. Crawford Higgins, now a deacon, was there yesterday and today, Manuel Mata, my teacher and friend, Olga Serna, who lifted me up when no one could, familiar faces, pillars of my church. My heart broke in a million pieces at Sarita's service. I couldn't stop the tears. But at the end, there was peace.
You see, one year ago today, I lay dying. I felt my life slipping away and I spent New Year's Eve in the Emergency Room then transported to ICU at McAllen Regional. I spent New Year's Day and next two days trying to make it back. I remember that night, my sister, Velma, telling me I was NOT going to die, she wouldn't let me. But I remember wanting to. Everything around me was painful, television, the news, betrayal, people suffering, people angry, people hungry, the thought of food and the smell of food making me sick, even hearing music hurt. I felt this overwhelming evil, I was drowning in fear - it was terrifying.
One whole year...struggling, not to make it back, but to be in a better place. And here I was, back at Holy Spirit Parish Hall. It was good seeing my friends - hearing their stories, sharing their faith...I felt home again. I laughed at myself. That's what Sarita would say..."Live to the fullest, love much, and laugh often..."
In September, Ralph and I cut off cable TV, the newspaper, my only indulgence, Facebook, I can turn off when it gets to be too much.
I don't know why I came to be in this place. Maybe it was the accident two years ago that took so much from me. My freedom to move, to dance, to walk freely without pain or maybe because I allowed individuals to take my peace, my inner peace.
Nah...Sarita's journey reminded me it's still here. Sometimes when I ask God to heal me...the pain ceases for a while and I think it's gone and I thank him. But then I'll move suddenly throwing off my balance and my pain returns... But I know others have it worse than I do and they continue to live to the fullest, love much and laugh often. - tell it like it is, Sarita!
Rest in peace, my dear, sweet friend...
