There’s a brand new star in heaven. On May 14, a sweet and gentle lady decided it was time to go home. Her children had all said goodbye, and she could no longer ask Jesus to wait.
I knew Azucena Vera Perez because all her children are my friends, her eldest my closest. I loved how they always hovered around her. That was her happy place, as it was theirs.
Mama Nene was simple, unassuming and at ease in the middle of celebrity and power, every inch a lady. She was soft-spoken but strong-willed, her character and solid principles always in gear. She valued friendship and loyalty.
Displeasure
I had my moments with her. She laughed at my jokes and listened to my crazy stories. But I will never forget how, many years ago at one of our gatherings, she grimaced in displeasure when I made a not-so-nice remark about an ugly event in my life. I do that sometimes. Not wanting to show pain, I made a joke. Everybody laughed. She didn’t.
I later apologized for causing her any discomfort. She was gracious. She patted my hand and said: “It was not nice, hija. But I understand.” She always held my hand whenever I went over to greet her or say goodbye. I like to think she wanted me to linger a bit.
You know how, if you are lucky, you have one person in your lifetime who makes you feel special? She was that in mine.
Although the news was expected, it still hurt to receive Manay Ichu’s message about her passing. I felt a deep sense of loss.
At Mt. Carmel Church the wake broke all box-office records. Hundreds of people in the parking lot who couldn’t be accommodated inside the chapel patiently queued to pay their last respects to the First Lady of Sampaguita Pictures, her bronze coffin surrounded by hundreds of deep pink Ecuadorian roses, orchids and hydrangeas, a work of love designed and directed by her firstborn.
At the funeral everyone wore white. Her grandchildren took turns singing. I spotted several bittersweet reunions. Political and social lines were blurred and blended for the moment. There was a fiesta atmosphere. This was an authentic celebration of life, complete with laughter and tears.
It was a poignant drama when white balloons and more than 200 butterflies were released to soar against the backdrop of a cloudless blue sky. One delicate black-and-white butterfly alit on Manay Ichu’s bosom. It trembled and fluttered there, but stayed until it was all over.
“That’s Mama Nene,” someone said, “re-establishing the pecking order of her children. Now that she is gone, Marichu is matriarch in residence at Valencia.”
Mama Nene was the “glue” that kept the family together. Marichu has been an amazing “ate.” Will she now become Mama Ichu?
Happy birthday
Mama Nene missed her 97th birthday by nine days. But Sampaguita Gardens got all dressed up to celebrate. It was another SRO gathering for the ninth day of her novena, with mass, music, the usual sumptuous Valencia dinner and a star-studded cast.
During the last several months of her life, it was sad to watch Mama Nene slowly retreating from our world into her own private little space, somewhere unknown and unreachable. It was clear to all of us that soon she would be beyond recall.
Today the grand lady is no more. Those of us whose lives she touched are all the richer because we knew her. The memory of her gentle soul will live on forever. I thank God for her friendship.
“Hasta la vista, Mama Nene!”
Memories of a little boy
Once upon a long time ago I ran a nursery school in San Juan. Four-year-old Jaime Ugarte was one of my 21 students. Every day, when his mother Margarita dropped him off at the gate, he threw himself on the grass, screaming and crying. After we peeled him off the lawn, he came into the class still sobbing, reluctant to participate with the other kids.
When school let out at noon, it was instant replay. He wailed because he wanted to stay. We practically had to carry him bodily into their VW Beetle.
I got used to Jaime’s tears.
But nothing prepared me for what I saw the other night, a whole lifetime after nursery school.
Jaime was on television, all grown up now, of course, but again with tears in his eyes. Between sobs he thanked a benefactor who helped his granddaughter get a new lease on life.
The story is long. It was a life or death scenario. It tells about a 2-month-old baby girl with a hole in her heart and who is in desperate need of surgery that her family cannot afford.
It involves a Maserati. It shows two old families reconnected.
It speaks to us about miracles happening when we look beyond ourselves and open our hearts to meet someone else’s need, no questions asked. It is about making their need our call.
This is what motor journalist James Deakin did. So did Marc Soong, his dad Wellington and many others. God bless them all.
I want Jaime to know that I have dusted my old wings to join Alessandra’s Angels. I may not own a Maserati or a hefty bank account, but surely I can pray.
(For the whole story, Google “How a Car Helped Fix a Baby’s Broken Heart.”)