The road home

A friend told me recently: There are things in life that are inevitable, yet you never plan for it.

Tomorrow (April 13) I’ll wake up early and drive home to be with my entire family as we go to the viewing of my mother, followed by a Rosary, with the funeral to follow the next day.

I’ve made this drive up the I-5 so many times that I know where the cattle ranches – i.e. Bovine Universities – are and flip the air conditioning from fresh to recycle a mile away so I and whoever is with me don’t get a whiff of it. Each time I left home, I knew there would be another trip back. But never would I imagine one of the trips would be under these circumstances.

I actually made this type of drive once before when my friend James died last summer. I was in Northern California at the time visiting my family in Fresno before going on to seeing my parents. No matter how fast I was driving, I couldn’t get where I needed to be sooner. I have a feeling that tomorrow’s drive will be like that.

I also know the best and worst thoughts will come out. I’ll remember all the good times and the times I wasn’t the most loving child. I think the worst thoughts are future events that I would have wanted her there for, like if and when I ever get married. They hurt so much that a part of me never wants to experience that without her. Within moments of thinking that, I know that she would never want me to do that for her. Unfortunately, I can’t stop but think.

I also have a project to do on the drive home. I have my eulogy finished and will practice it on the way home. I’ll record it before I leave and play it on the way up and speak along with it. It will help me memorize it and that will hopefully help me.

It’s been more than a week that she had passed away. My family and I have received a lot of support from friends and relatives. I can’t thank my friends enough for just being there to listen. It seems small, but it has helped me get out thoughts and feelings.

But, I’m going to ask everyone a favor right now. If you read this blog in time, can you give me a call, even if it just to say hi. I’ll be on the freeway between the time of 7 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. (Monday, April 13). If you can’t call, send me a message on this blog or elsewhere. This drive will take more out of me than usual so I’ll need all the support I can get.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers through this difficult time.

Memorial information

Here are the services for my mother, Clemencia Cardenas.

The viewing will take place at Hotchkiss Mortuary in Tracy, Calif. on Monday, April 13, starting at 3 p.m. for the family, 4 p.m for the public and will go until 7 p.m. (UPDATE) followed by a rosary.

The funeral will take place at St. Bernard’s Church in Tracy the next day, starting at 10 a.m. The funeral precession will end at Tracy Public Cemetery.

Also, there might be a memorial service held in Southern California at a later time. There will be more information on that when it becomes available.

My family would like to thank everyone for their words and support during this difficult time. We appreciate all the love we have received.

My mother

My mother, me and my father

For those that knew her, they loved her. For those that she raised, you knew she could be brutally honest, and you loved her.

Clemencia Martinez was born on August 24, 1940 in Mexico. She moved with her family to the United States and settled in Northern California.

According to my father – when I asked him for a paper I was writing in high school – they met on a field near the house they raised my family. They ran off to the Nevada Stateline to get married on November 4, 1960. They married again, this time inside the Catholic Church, on January 28, 1961. They would have their first child seven months later.

On April 3, 2009, my family lost our matriarch.

My relationship with my parents is different from the rest of my family in my opinion. I was the youngest for starters. I was a male. And the difference in age between me and my next sibling was quite substantial meaning she didn’t have a bunch of children around the same age.

The stories I hear about growing up are far different than mine. My older sisters used to tell “The Pancake Story” when talking about how my mom raised them. I do know how painfully honest she could be, especially upset.

My mother always made a good impression. For those that met her, they would always enjoy talking with her, despite not speaking English well. My mother could communicate enough to be understood.

She died with family in Mexico. My parents were going around seeing family. From what has been told to me, this day, my mother hadn’t been feeling well, which may have been a continuing thing. For those that don’t know, my mother suffered from diabetes. It’s too early to tell what the cause of death is. She was complaining of chest pains and told my father, “I’m not going to make it.” She went to lie down and passed away before medical help could arrive.

I look back at the last time I talked to her. It was a few weeks back while she was in Mexico. We were able to communicate through the Internet. She asked me the same things she always asked: How I was doing? How the weather is? How work was? Usually when I talked to her she would give me a prayer saying “May God help and take care of you.”

I was at the movies, watching “I Love You, Man” when I got the call from one of my sisters. My phone was on silent but I heard the vibration of the voice mail. She called again and at that point I knew something was wrong. I walk out and called. I knew by the way she is talking what happened even before she said it.

Stunned and numb I walked back into the theater. I welled up, but didn’t cry. The movie was funny but at the same time I just kept going back to my thoughts. The movie, in a way, froze me at a point in time. Once the credits rolled, I began to cry. I came home and broke down.

I think about all things before and everything after that she will not be there for. At my friend’s wedding, I saw him dance with him mom and thought about my mom and how much I wanted that moment.

However, there are more important things. When I got home, my family was all online talking to each other through instant messages in a conference trying to figure out what to do next.

For the rest of the night I’ve walked around feeling hollow. No matter what you think or do, you just know something is gone.

I feel fortunate to have such a wonderful mother. As I go to sleep in a little bit, I have the second gift given to me the day I was born. It’s a stuffed toy that looks like a bear appears to be put together with just fabric and filling that I’ve kept ever since. It reminds me of her.

The first gift given to me that day is life. My mother gave me that.

The (approximately) $3,000 gamble

This was my first thought after watching President Barack Obama land at Long Beach Airport: Air Force One is a big-ass plane.

… I often wonder if I do enough charitable things. Everyone says I’m a nice person but from what I learned in college, nice isn’t really that great of a description. It’s more a bland depiction of a person that you can’t really come up for a better word to describe them; a catch all.

However, that is beside the point of my first statement.

I never really thought I do enough things for organizations. I always felt I could do more, but when push came to shove, I folded for the most part.

So, when I had the chance to do something, I did push back. I got up early one Friday morning and drove to the Central Valley and volunteered at a golf tournament that was raising money for the school where my niece and nephew (and in a few years another niece) attend.

My job was to sell raffle tickets with my nephew and his friend at the sixth hole. I had so many fears with the main one being would I be able to control two kindergarteners? It turned out there was no need to worry. They were well behaved and we were able to sell about $170 in raffle tickets.

It was a fun trip away from Southern California. It was also felt good to do something that will help others in the long run. It’s about time I did something.

… After two weeks, my apartment is still not done. Now we have: mini-blinds; a new floor and toilet in my bathroom; a new stove, sink, lights and new floor in the kitchen; and have all of the rooms painted except for the bedrooms which we are passing on.

What still needs to be done? My roommate’s bathroom needs: a shower wall, medicine cabinet, mirror and to be painted. My bathroom needs: a new shower door and to be painted. After that, I think we’ll be done.

The contractors are still taking their time, however. My friend asked me how long it would take expecting me to answer “Two weeks,” a la the movie “The Money Pit.” For those that have not seen the movie, it is the usual answer given by the contractor rebuilding their house. At this pace that might actually happen.

… My parents have been in Mexico for a while and will return in more than a week. They are traveling with one of my sisters.

While I was online, I noticed she logged in which kind of shocked me since she isn’t one of the most tech savvy members of the family.

She then messaged me and told me our parents were doing well. She then asked if I had a webcam on my computer.

After a few technical glitches, I was able to see family and they were able to see me. One by one, they walked in front of the computer in Mexico and we talked for a bit.

I may have talked to one or two of them on the phone over the years but this was the first time I was able to see them. Afterwards, I wished the economy wasn’t so bad and felt more secure at work to have taken to trip with them. Hopefully things will get better and maybe I’ll be able to make the next one.

… This past Friday was decision day for either taking the transfer or the buyout and become laid off. After thinking about what was important and weighing in what I know is going to happen, I decided to stay employed.

Staying does not come without its own set of problems. My commute does increase anywhere from five to 20 minutes on the way there. I do lose an extra $10 a night since there is no night side differential. There is a lack of food options around the new office. And, I know unofficially in the near future there will be a pay cut anywhere from seven to 10 percent.

The only good thing is May is a three paycheck month.

If I took the buyout I would be looking at the usual payout of time worked, vacation time at about three weeks and somewhere between three to four weeks of severance pay. The severance pay I anticipated being worth about $3,000 after taxes.

When making the choice to stay I remember the promise I always made myself, I would never be unemployed again as long I could help it. As much as I didn’t want to go, I had to.

However, I do have my resume done with the big help of a family friend and have been applying for jobs. I’m fortunate that I do have connections to help me along the way.

I was told that once I had everything together, it should take a few weeks to find work, and that weighed on me and on my decision making. The transfer would take place around that time. It was a chance to get a bonus, so to speak, and maybe have a week off before I started my new job. However, I couldn’t risk it, thus I lost my chance at the “bonus.”

In a way, if I am wrong and should have taken the buyout, I’d have to work at least one week at the new office so I would look like a complete jackass. I’d still look like a jackass, just not a complete one.

Again, thanks to a good connection, I have someone willing to help me and discuss my options, if any. I hope there are.

He told me to call back on Wednesday or Thursday, the first two days of April.