I write this note to my family to share my trip to Mexico to visit Paula. It had been our hope that Mike could make the trip, but at the time of her hospitalization, Mike did not have a valid Passport; therefore, we planned on me going first to help Paula rehabilitate and find a way for some care as she recovered, and then Mike could expedite a Passport to come down after me.
Our hearts sank when we were informed by doctors at the Mexican hospital that we should hurry to Mexico as it did not look like Paula would last very long in this life. Time flew so fast, and information changed daily as we made plans to get to her as quickly as we could. Alas, I made reservations to go to her Christmas morning, but the morning I left, we heard the sad news that Paula had passed in her sleep around 11:30 pm Christmas Eve. Therefore, I flew to Mexico with a heavy heart, knowing that the next few days would not be by her side to comfort her, but to prepare her for a funeral. As I write this note, I recall a troubled heart because I was alone and hoping to somehow fulfill the wishes of the family to make sure she had a proper resting place and to determine what should be done with the blessings of Tom and Mike.
I want to thank all of my family for their kind support during that time. Paula had friends who helped me with transportation, lodging, meals, filing papers, arranging cremation, and so much more. I stayed with a woman named Pat without whom I would have been lost in a city that was foreign to me in so many ways. She had an employee named Jesus, who provided me non-stop assistance driving me to Paula’s house, worked with government officials (and translated for me), helped me search for important documents, and donated items that Paula would have wanted in the right hands: school supplies for teachers and children; clothes for riders on the train who were seeking a better life in the north; local workers who needed essential tools or basic furniture in their very own homes.
It was clear in my journey that Paula’s enthusiasm and creativity reached far into her community in many ways. I would go through stacks of papers of Paula’s ideas about things she would design someday or new ways of living that would support her troubled mind or aching heart. It was overwhelming to see the amount of things she cherished and dreamed about. It was also so hard to leave much of it behind.
On the day after my arrival, with the assistance of one of Paula’s friends, I was able to view Paula’s body in the funeral home before the cremation. I was alone with her in the room, I wept, I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for giving me her son as my husband. I thanked her also for the family she brought me into—the most loving family I have ever met. I told her that the entire O’Hare family loved her so much that it must have been painful for them to have this sad emissary bringing the love and memories of which I’m sure I lacked in communicating. I prayed over her, said prayers that I thought members of the family would like her to hear, and I honored her with wishes that “the Goddesses” would care for her in the afterlife as much as God might—Paula was clear in some of her own musings on a deity, or multiple ones, and that life was to be treated fully and preciously, which she honored her entire life.
I met many of Paula’s friends, a group of men and women who met at a bar in Mexico weekly for gathering, laughing, telling jokes, and sharing fun times. We met at their favorite place to toast her and share stories about her adventurous life. So many people enjoyed her quick wit, her political and personal beliefs, her desire to teach and be taught. I wish I had the memory to tell you all that I learned that evening, but exhaustion set in at some point, and I can only tell you that the group of people at the table that night expressed their sadness at her passing, but they mostly grinned when they recalled the love she told them she had for her family, for her Mikey, for Tom, her grandchildren, her sisters-in-law and families, her brother-in-law, her nephews, her nieces, and for her second husband, who left her too early. I was told that when Paula entered the room, people always took notice of her either in conversations or as she sat alone reading one of the thousands of books she would consume over a lifetime.
The rest of my trip focused on preparing her ashes for a resting place in Mexico, which is where Tom and Mike felt she would want to be. I buried her ashes next to a field near her home, under a plant that was thriving. Jesus and I did it by ourselves, and he was very kind as we gently let her ashes merge with the fertile soil. While she resides in Mexico, the place she loved, she resides in our hearts forever.
My trip to Mexico is forever imprinted on my heart. I only wish I could have been their earlier to squeeze her hand and feel the life-giving force she gave to so many. I hope this note gives you solace in some way—I know it was hard for the family to be far away and helpless to change her fate, and I can only say with joy in my heart that I thank you for allowing me to be the one to honor her in the few days after her death. I took you all with me in spirit. And I love you all.
