On This Day of Thanksgiving...

My mind is full of thoughts. What I’m about to say may not be popular or even pleasant, but I’m still grieving and feeling raw right now. I’m not big on Thanksgiving as a rule. In our daily lives, we should always give Thanks for what we have. Whether or not we believe in God or a being greater than ourselves, we should always recognize the good things in our lives—our blessings—our loved ones, our talents, our treasures, our health or whatever we hold dear. We must be thankful for those things. We should treat everyone with honor and respect and look out for those who aren’t as fortunate.

Lately, maybe I am more conscious of what I am thankful for and more aware of the blessings all around me. I have a loving husband who has been kind, compassionate, loving and willing to sacrifice so much of his time to help me, my mother and my father as he was ailing. David didn’t have to do what he did for us, but he did so out of love and respect. He’s a treasure and a blessing I will always cherish and thank him for being part of our lives. I don’t need a day on the calendar to tell him this. Nor anyone else. I try to be mindful of these things, but I fail. Maybe that is why “Thanksgiving Day” exists. So, perhaps it is a good thing.

It goes without saying how blessed and thankful I am for my parents. They have taught me how to love, provided me with a good home, values and morals. The lessons they taught me have shaped me; and I hope, have molded me into a decent human being. They gave me a solid faith and belief in God. And I try to remember these lessons daily even though I often fail.

As I watched my dad’s health fail this year, I learned more about myself than I thought possible. I also think I managed to find patience. Sometimes, my dad wasn’t easy to get along with. He had a strong personality. We fought like cats and dogs, we spared verbally, not always using PG language, but we always made up. We also loved and adored each other. He was truly my best friend. We did so much together and when a day went by that we didn’t see or talk to one another, one of us called to check on the other.

When we knew he wasn’t going to get well and that his days on this Earth were fewer and fewer, we rallied behind him and did everything we could to make sure he was happy, comfortable and loved. My  extended family pitched in with visits, bringing meals or just being there for my mom and me. My aunts and uncles were a blessing. They visited him, offered my mom their support, took her to run errands or stayed with Dad so she could take a break. His friends came to see him, prayed with him and prayed for him; my uncle faithfully brought him the Eucharist and cousins came to help. My own friends did what they could to make life easier for us. I’m grateful to the hospice and the caregivers my dad had in the last few weeks of his life. I’m thankful for his doctor who did his best to treat him even knowing it was a longshot.

Nothing about Dad’s dying was or is easy. There are bitter feelings; there is anger and resentment. These feelings will dissipate with time, but for the moment, nothing can ease the pain. Friends, family and co-workers have paid their respects and honored my father in many ways, and I will always be grateful and thankful for that. Some came to the funeral home for the visitation; some stayed for the rosary and some sent cards. Many offered condolences, paid for Masses or sent flowers. I hope some donated money in his name. Many others came to Dad’s Funeral Mass and I will remember the faces of those who were there. I don’t need to see a name in a guestbook to know who came. Each and every one of you will forever be in my memory. I am thankful to those, especially my non-religious/non-Catholic friends and family, who came to his funeral out of respect. That is what mattered. I will never forget you, as I will never forget looking around the church for faces that should have been there and were not there-- no apologies or excuses given for their absence. That sting will lessen in time, but it does hurt. I am so thankful for the many messages of condolences I received. And sadly, I’ll remember waiting for the messages that never came. It’s too late for apologies or sympathies. I don’t mean to be bitter and harbor resent because in the end, all that mattered was my father and the people who loved him, respected him and cared for him were there for him yesterday. We laughed, we cried and we remembered him. And in the end, it was for him we celebrated his life—in a way that honored him with our traditions and our faith. 

Sometimes with Joy comes Sadness

And heartache.

A week ago Tuesday, November 13, 2012 my beloved father died...

You'd think that it just happened. The loss is deep, heartbreaking and all-consuming. The pain is great, the yearning huge and the tears never ending. He'd been sick for nearly a year-- he was strong and determined-- but in the end the cancer that he tried to beat won. When the end came, I think he found peace. His last 24 hours, he slept peacefully until he finally drifted away.

There is so much to say about my father, yet the words aren't flowing. He was a passionate, kind, strong-willed, stubborn, generous, loving and wonderful man. As we prepare for his funeral tomorrow, I sit here quietly reflecting on my father's life and feel such a huge void in my life. I am not alone as I grieve and I am not alone in my loss, but my world has suddenly gotten a whole lot smaller. My father, that larger than life figure, is gone. I still see his face when I close my eyes and I can still hear his voice in my head, but to know I cannot touch him physically anymore breaks my heart.

My faith is weak, yet I believe that there has to be something beyond this life, beyond this vale of tears. I think, as I was watching him slip away these last few weeks, I caught a glimpse of what just might be beyond this life. I think he could see that there was something beyond this world; it was like he was reaching out to his siblings. The loved ones that have gone before him. Maybe he could see his mama and his papa. Their names rolled off his lips like a litany of prayers, it seemed like  he could see them calling out to him, yearning and waiting for him as he reached out and tried to touch them off in the distance. Thinking that gives me peace anyway.

I have great memories of my father. We'd spend hours star gazing, going for rides, talking on the phone or watching the Lobo game. He was passionate about sports, politics and loved the Golf Channel and used to watch General Hospital. On Saturdays, he loved getting up and going to breakfast at the Village Inn. He taught me all about love, morality and respect. We argued like cats and dogs but we always made peace. He was stubborn and opinionated and knew how to do everything, yet he taught me so much. He was just and kind. We always managed to have a laugh or two. Sometimes, I felt like the son he always wanted, but honestly,  I think he liked having a girl better. He treated me like a princess, yet I grew up independent and strong because of him.  Yes, he spoiled me rotten, but he also taught me about the value of work and an education. He always wanted the best for me and even when I failed, he never failed to tell me he loved me. I am a better woman because of my father and I cherish him deeply. He cried on my wedding day, but I think he also know that I was marrying a good man, a man who like him, I loved and adored. And I know he was happy that day as well. 

So tomorrow, we celebrate his life with a Mass of Christian Burial and then we lay him to rest at the Santa Fe National Cemetery. I'm not ready for it; I'm a little saddened by the thought of it, and I'm a little scared. I know I can "live" without my daddy. That's the nature of life; children usually bury their parents, but I'm just not ready to let him go.

Here is a slide show I put together in his honor.

And this is the obituary I wrote for him.

Roman Jose Salazar, 84, a life-long resident of Santa Fe, died peacefully Tuesday, Nov. 13 at his home after a lengthy illness.

Roman was born in Española, NM, on April 17, 1928.  He was the youngest of seven children. He came to Santa Fe as a young boy to live with his brother Ramon and wife, Dulce, so that he could attend St. Michael’s, where he attended from elementary school through high school. He excelled in football and basketball and was captain of both teams his senior year. He was also a member of the Sodality of Mary. He graduated in 1947. He received a scholarship to St. Mary’s College in Moraga CA, a small university run by the Christian Brothers. He received a football scholarship, but the intention was for him to play basketball as a walk on. He played a season of football, but was sidelined after a knee injury. Soon after his second semester of college, he returned to Española to help care for his sick mother. He then worked at various jobs, mostly as a carpenter, until he was drafted into the US Army in 1951. He served for two years and was honorably discharged with the rank of Corporal in 1953.

He enjoyed the life of a bachelor until he finally found a soul mate, in Theresa Olivas. In 1965, they married and few years later, they had one daughter, Maria Feliz. They had great adventures as a family. He enjoyed playing sports of all kinds, but found his passion playing golf. He spent many years happily playing the links at the Santa Fe Country Club, winning many tournaments with his best friend Lee.  He also enjoyed watching Lobo basketball and attended as many games as he could at the Pit with his daughter.  He retired from Public Service Company of New Mexico in 1988 after nearly 30 years of employment.  He loved tending his garden, most especially the greenest patch of lawn in town. He enjoyed spending time with friends and family. Wherever he went he always bumped into a friend.

He is preceded in death by his parents Pacomio and Vincentita Salazar; brother Ramon Salazar; sisters, Cleofas Salazar, Antonia Martinez, Celida Maestas, Elizama Brazeal and Romancita Salazar. He is survived by his wife of 47 years, Theresa Olivas Salazar; daughter Maria Feliz; son-in-law David Duran and beloved poodle, Noche. He is also survived by special friends, Lee and Sara Sanchez and their children; many nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews.

Public visitation will be 5-7 p.m. and a rosary will be recited at 7 p.m. Monday, Nov. 19, at Berardinelli Family Funeral Service, 1399 Luisa Street, 984-8600. Mass of Christian Burial will be at 10:30 a.m. Wednesday, Nov. 21 at the Cathedral Basilica, 131 Cathedral Pl., 982-5619. Interment will take place at 1:30 p.m. at the National Cemetery, 501 N. Guadalupe St., 988-6400.

The family requests that in lieu of flowers, donations be made in his name to the Tuition Assistance Fund at St. Michael’s High School, 100 Siringo Rd., Santa Fe, NM 87505.

I love you and will always miss you, Daddy. 

Peace and love to you on your new adventure. 

Saying Good Bye

Estrella not letting me clean her bed, June 2009.

Sunday, July 8, 2012, we had to say goodbye to our Sweet Estrella. She was a precious, loving and truly amazing dog. She came to me during the Cerros Grande Fire, when the city shelter emptied its kennels to foster families so that it could house Los Alamos pets displaced by the fire. I picked her out of a group of three or four dogs. She looked like the nicest of the group. She became friends with my dog Barkley and then some of my very good friends came for a visit from all over the country and she was pretty good. The worst that happened that weekend was one of my guests had and allergy attack and I think the air mattress collapsed because of the dogs. She fit in perfectly and I knew that I had to officially adopt her, which I did.

When David joined the family, she was smitten and he really loved her too. She'd be the one to keep him company in the mornings. She had a gentle soul and a heart full of love.

For the last year she'd been ailing and suffering from arthritis and a few other things. We knew time with her was getting short and finally, she told us she was ready. We took her to the vet and held out a little hope we could do something, we knew we were going to say goodbye.

David carried her to the 4Runner, wrapped in a towel and placed her on the bed. Iggy escaped and wanted to go with us. He adored her. He got to say his goodbye. If it hadn't been hot, I might have taken him.

When we got there, the office was packed. We didn't take her into a room. I hated to move her as she was comfortable and they were running slow, Sundays at the Vets are always mobbed. They brought her water and we sat with her. The vet examined her and did the procedure in the back of my car. It was the best place. She loved taking trips in the car. She had a lot of happy moments riding in my 4Runner.

It was hard letting her go. I think her passing was harder for me because we knowingly took her to ease her suffering. When Barkley died, I wasn't expecting it. He was suffering but it was a sudden and took me by surprise. Putting him to sleep was the best thing I could have done for him as well, but it was a painful decision.

So, goodbye Miss Waggles, the Labrarottie with the velvet ears. You were loved and you will be missed.

Two Years Ago Maria Said Yes

And life has never been more wonderful. We've had our challenges and through it all, we've grown stronger and found ourselves more in love.


Today, we didn't make it to Battleship Rock to celebrate the anniversary of David's proposal, but we did celebrate and we did cherish the day and each other. Just a token of our day.

A Big Step...

David put his house on the market for sale. We're hoping that the market in Jemez Springs is thriving and the house he's owned since 2001, his first home, will sell. We have our eyes set on building a home of our own.

So, drop by his website to see pictures and get information on how to contact the listing agent, Susan Donovan for a showing or other information.