It was supposed to be a regular day....

 After spending Saturday and Sunday in New York, I rested on Monday.  The days prior were emotionally exhausting.  Traveling the four hours to Brooklyn to attend my grandmother’s funeral services.  Seeing her there, speaking about what she meant to me and realizing that I won’t see her until I die, was difficult.  Then, the drive home, felt endless.  I did the driving.  Got home and I just stood in bed until late.  

Tuesday came and I thought that after breakfast, I’d go upstairs and start working.  Negative.  I had given the boys their usual dental bone.  Stood in the same area as they ate it.  It was the same routine they’ve had since 2017.  All get a dental bone and all go to their respective corners.  I made the mistake of opening the front door.  When I returned to the living room, CocoChanel was on the floor, salivating, gasping for air.  I put my finger down his throat and he threw up.  But whatever was in his throat, was still there.  Seconds felt like days and the car ride to the hospital felt like years.  

The doctors in the first hospital were able to stabilize him.  He had vomited and defecated on the way there.  His squeals were heartbreaking.  I felt hopeless.   The pain of losing my grandma and the thought of losing CocoChanel made me go numb.  I don’t know how Diego drove.  I don’t know how he made it to the second hospital.  

There, the doctors did an X-ray and saw the object stuck in his esophagus.  An endoscopy was performed and they were able to remove the piece of bone.  

I am so very grateful for another chance with CocoChanel.  I am.  He spend the night next to me, moaning.  CocoChanel.

The bones I’ve been giving him since 2017

The piece of bone that became stuck in his esophagus.  A penny next to it to show scale.

On the ride back home.  

This morning.  A bit lethargic but on window duty, sitting on the dining chairs, next to me. 

Needless to say, I will never give him another bone.  

I am thankful that Diego was home to help me. 

God is Good.

Mi abuela Luisa

 La vida, por ley, suele darnos dos abuelas.  Una por parte de madre y otra por parte de padre.  La vida, me dio, tres.  Verán, mi abuela Tula se me fue temprano en mi vida.  Los recuerdos mágicos y sagrados de mi niñez, están llenos de ella.  Siempre tierna, con palabras suaves, con sus brazos anchos y sus ojitos de ternura hacia mi.  Ella se fue cuando apenas tenía 15 años.  Una etapa llena de turbulencias en mi entorno.  

Cuando por primera vez nos mudamos a Nueva York, conocí a mi abuela materna.  La había conocido antes, en sus viajes relámpagos a la isla.  Pero una nunca consigue conocer a alguien bien, hasta que no vive con ella.  Recuerdo su fortaleza de carácter, su piel hermosa, sus brazos anchos, su coquetería (siempre andaba maquillada) y sus ojitos de ternura con los que a veces me miraba.  Ella siempre llevaba una coraza puesta, pues rara era la vez que mostraba sus sentimientos.  Pero sí recuerdo, con claridad sus consejos y recuerdo cuando ella se sentaba a escucharme.  Esto último es muy valioso para mi.  El tiempo que me brindó su atención, se queda en un cofre dentro de mi corazón.

Luego, con el tiempo, ella enfermó y de su mente, se ausentó.  Durante las navidades del 2001, fue la última vez que la vi consciente.  En el verano del 2002, ya su espíritu había volado lejos.  

Recuerdo siempre, desde el 1982, que mi abuela tenía una amiga que se llamaba Luisa.  Se trataban como hermanas.  Y las historias que me contaban de sus travesuras.  Desde entonces, Luisa fue una constante en mi vida.  Fue una voz de apoyo, de empuje, de aguante y me jalaba las orejas cuando me lo merecía.  Desde antes de mi abuela fallecer, yo la llamaba varias veces en semana.  Cuando estuve en Texas, las llamadas por la mañana eran a diario.  Siempre preocupada por mi.  Por la cacata, así le decía a Zassha, por Sebastián y por Diego.  Su sabiduría era inmensa, sus consejos invaluables y su cariño y protección hacia mi,  eran palpable.  En mis batallas mentales era un soldado guerrero, constante apoyo.  Siempre me decía: “Evelyncita, con Dios”.   

La semana pasada, me puse la segunda dosis de la vacuna.  Tenía planeado un viaje a NY a fines de mes y mi primera parada era la casa de mi abuela.  El viernes pasado, se fue.  

Tratando de digerir este duelo, escribo.  Tratando de echar hacia afuera mi dolor, me expreso.  El vacío que siento es grande.  Y las lágrimas surgen sin percatarme.  Todo está borroso.  Intento distraerme en la costura, sin éxito.  Pues mis ojos están hinchados.  Mi abuela Luisa.  Mi viejita Luisa.  Recuerdo que la última vez que la vi, me acosté al lado de ella y le puse sus manos en mi cabeza.  Recuerdo que se puso mis lentes e hizo chistes de lo fuerte que los lentes eran.  Mi abuela Luisa.  Sé que si me viese en estas condiciones, me regańaría.  Sé que con el tiempo, me acostumbraré a su ausencia.  

Le doy gracias a Dios por el tiempo.  Le doy gracias a la vida porque tuve suerte.  Me regaló tres abuelas.  En mis años de madurez, conté con ella.  Cuando pensaba que perdía la razón, ella era la cordura.    Dios, recíbela en tus brazos y permite que su alma descanse en paz.  

Yo tuve tres abuelas.  

Mi abuela Luisa con mis lentes puestos.  

On wedding season, renewal of vows, finding memories and moving on

 I can’t remember a time that I didn’t connect spring to wedding season.  As far back as I can remember, starting March, I saw wedding gowns and something related to a wedding, every where I looked. From intricate white gowns, to the shoes and the flowers.  The gowns that caught my eyes, were the ones with embellished lace.  Lace that was filled with crystals and pearls.  They were so beautiful and puzzling (in my head) to figure out.  I remember, then I was in college, studying Spanish Literature.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think, I would have the pleasure of working with gowns like the ones in magazines.  

Spring flowers meant wedding bouquets.  So many to choose from and their smell can linger in a room for days.  Daisies and sunflowers have always been my favorite.  To me, daisies are the happiest flowers.   Looking at them, brightens my day.  Sunflowers are majestic, they are golden.   Dahlias bring elegance and sophistication to any bouquet.  And roses, roses are the most romantic flower.  Having different types and many colors to choose from can be a bit overwhelming.  I prefer the “garden” roses.  For me, they are classic.  And remind me of my mother’s garden in Puerto Rico.  It always had roses blooming of every color.  

Skip a couple of years and my wedding date was quickly approaching.  My good friend, Dalma, was working in the Fashion District in the city (NYC).  She knew exactly were to take me.  My wedding dress was not at all what I had envisioned.  For I was in my last trimester of pregnancy and my budget was tight.  I was going to college full time, working part time, having my first baby and planning a wedding.  Besides all of the drama the latter could bring in a Hispanic family, my baby was growing by the minute.  Talk about drama.  Things were difficult.  But back to fabric buying and choosing a wedding dress.  I knew in my heart, that this was the only time I was getting married.  And so, I wanted it ALL.  Gorgeous head piece and a white dress with a train.  Did I say that I wanted a short dress?  Yes, please.  So, I wanted the dress to have a beaded top with an organza bottom.  I can never repay Dalma for her skills and for her kindness towards me.  May God bless her hands.  I chose pattern #5420 from McCall’s. 

It was a style I had already made two years prior by hand.

Little did I realize how difficult it was going to finish this one by machine.  The beads were made of glass, and, ignorant me, didn’t know that machines needed oil to function.  The machine died during the night.  I still don’t know how she manage to finish the dress.  The wedding was the next day.  

As my children grew, I returned to the work force.  I needed something to do part time while my children were in school.  I was hired at the Alterations department of the Naval Base we lived in.  Marine Corps Ball was coming and the work load, at the shop, was heavy.  Learned lots.  Thankful to Ms. Susan for her patience, for listening and for the lessons.  

Where in all this do wedding gowns come into play?  Well, my next job was at David’s Bridal’s Alterations Department.  I was in awe.  I worked there for several years.  I had a love-hate relationship with wedding gowns.  And I can’t really say hate.  I was conflicted for we were all under time restrictions when we worked with a dress.  And wedding gowns seemed to take up the most time.  Though, I loved chiffon hems.  Loved them and took pride in working with them. 

**with my daughter, Zassha, and my dear friend, Megan**

**wedding dresses I wore to The Marine Corps Ball from David’s Bridal**

By this time, my husband was leaving “active duty” and entering “civilian life”.  We gained and lost.  We moved to a different state and I ended up leaving David’s.  The nearest location to our new home was more than an hour away.  

Years passed and we were about to celebrate my daughter’s 15th birthday.  In many Hispanic cultures, parents celebrate their daughter’s coming of age by throwing a large party, a Quinceañera.  Zassha wanted none of it.  No party, no ceremony, no dress, nada.  She instead wanted to go to Paris.  I fell in love with the city, the moment I arrived there in 2012 for my birthday.  So I couldn’t blame her and we didn’t fight it.  In November of that same year, my husband and I were going to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary.  So, by March of that year (2015) I had begun making my wedding gown.  I thought we could renew our vows with a simple ceremony at the Baptist Church down the street.  Just the four of us, the Pastor’s blessing and my wedding gown.  

I had fallen in love with a silk Lazaro gown.  The material was “like butter”, gorgeous.  But, I couldn’t justify paying $5,000. for a gown.  So, I thanked Lazaro for the dream and began looking at sewing patterns.  David Tutera’s McCall’s 7050

Caught my eye.  Worked on a Muslim.  Did the alterations needed for my 38D lolas and shorten the bodice (I’m only 5’).  Bought duchess satin for the entire gown.  I covered the top with Chantilly lace.  I added many layers of tulle to the underskirt.  I remember finishing it in May.  I tried it on and, it wasn’t me.  That dress and I did not go together.  I just didn’t see myself walking down the aisle with it.  

Took about a week off.  Clean slate, I thought and I began working on McCall’s 6505.

I had plenty of satin and Chantilly lace left.  Started cutting away.  It took me about two weeks and I even made a train in chiffon for it.  Tried it on and NO.  Wasn’t convinced, wasn’t it.  

June comes along and my husband suggests to renew our vows in Paris instead.  PARIS.  I covered my face with my hands as to try to stop myself from going bunkers.  Great, I thought.  Paris renewal of vows.  Two wedding gown fails.  Great!  What am I going to do?  One side, I’m elated.  The other, I’m freaking out and starting to feel the pressure.  Adding to my load = two bridesmaids outfits (for my daughter and my niece).  

Time was of the essence, literally.  I couldn’t waste a second.  Did I mention that during those months, my industrial Juki got stuck?  Thank goodness for my back up machines.  Love you Bernina 580.  Love you lots.  

By the time I found my trusty Butterick #4919

It was July.  We were leaving at the end of the month.  

I decided to focus on the girls outfit.  They were going to wear cropped tops in organza and short skirts in crepe.  Tops of different colors and the skirt of the same color.  I chose coral for their skirts.  Zassha picked purple for her top and Desiree picked beige.  Headed to DSW for the shoes.  I wanted both to have the same style.  Mine needed to be comfortable.  We were going to be walking on cobblestone.  Comfort!  That was a challenge.

Less than two weeks to go and I start to cut my fabric for the dress.  Making other outfits for the trip took me away from finishing the wedding dress.  My beautiful  trusty pattern.  After all, my measurements had not changed (I thought).  

We were leaving Monday for Paris.  As I’m about to hem this gorgeous duchess satin vintage style dress, something tickles me to try it on.  Mind you, it’s Friday. DID NOT FIT.  I needed two inches on the waist.  I opened her up and couldn’t see the extra inches that were (then) staring at me.  I screamed, I cried.  Had to run to Hancock Fabrics and purchased about 5 yards of shantung.  Used the “dupioni” side and was generous with the seam allowance.  I remembered making sure that I measured twice prior to cutting and constantly fitted the pieces over my body.  Spend the whole weekend sewing.  Breaking an insane amount of needles as I attached the embellished trim of allencon lace at the hem. 

 Felt like road runner and the process left me exhausted.  The fourth dress.  I placed the outfit (shoes and dress) inside the carry on.  Made sure that the girls did the same.  

The flight to Paris was a blur.  Slept most of the way.  To fight off “jet lag” we walked mostly all morning.  From the hotel to Luxenburg Gardens to Place de L’Abbé Basset (next to the Pantheon) to Notre Dame Cathedral.  When in Paris, we walk.  And then, I realized that I did not have a head piece...

Tic toc, Wednesday’s mission : find netting for the headpiece.  I wanted it to be a fascinator but shape and size was still in question.  Headed to La Droguerie.  One of Paris’ harberdasheries. Loved every single inch of the store but they didn’t have any netting.  They were kind enough to suggest Ultramod .  It’s located on Rue de Choiseul.  But that mission had to wait until the day after.  We were headed towards the Eiffel Tower.  After walking up the stairs to the Eiffel and enjoying the sight of the city from above, we were exhausted.  

Having only one day to go before the ceremony, while the kids enjoyed The Mona Lisa at The Louvre, we walked towards Ultramod. 

I think I had to lean against a wall for I was in disbelief. It felt like walking back in time.  I was in the right place.  Purchased enough red netting for the girls.  I fell in love with a gorgeous white netting with small “white pom  poms”. But what type of fascinator was I going to make.... the vision only came to me later that evening in the hotel.  They were loud, big and full.  I finished them close to 2am. 

Friday morning came, the day of the ceremony.  We were going to meet the photographer at The Eiffel Tower.  The ceremony was going to take place by the River Seine.  While the makeup artist and the hairdresser were making me pretty, my husband and kids were out buying me something I had forgotten all about... the bouquet of flowers.  

I can’t remember if the flower shops were closed at that hour or if they were too far from the hotel.  So I asked them to buy me daisies or sunflowers from a market.  Negative.  They found roses but they were small.  Ended up getting two dozens.  One of red and the other of yellow.  I gathered them in a bunch.  Cut the stems a bit and wrapped tulle around them.

This picture was taken at the end of the evening.  Here is the bouquet, the brooch and the shoes I wore.  Believe it or not, in spite of the high heels, they were extremely comfortable.  

Put my dress on.  Looked in the mirror and said; “yes, it was well worth it.”  My husband’s face and my children’s smiles, confirmed it.  It was happening exactly were it was supposed to be.  

Felt like a queen on the ride from the hotel to the Eiffel.  Met the photographer and his assistant.  We danced, we laughed, we walked.  It went by so fast.  It was truly special.  Renewing our vows by the river, in front of The Eiffel Tower, in Paris... I was in la la land.  I will treasure these memories always.

After that, we went to the hotel.  I changed into my dinner outfit.

It’s a McCall’s #6552

Here I am with my husband and my daughter, wearing the dress.  

   This, I had made the year prior for my daughter’s eight grade graduation.  The only alteration I had done to the pattern was that I made a dickey for discretion.  The restaurant we went to was Tavola Di Gio.  Located on Raspail Boulevard.  Excellent Italian food.  We have dined here every time we are in Paris and we always sit outside to watch people go by.  Can’t recommend this restaurant enough.  

As I write this, I realize the “mistakes” I made. There was really nothing wrong with the third dress.  The waist part of the skirt, had enough material.  At that moment, I couldn’t see it.    With hindsight they could have been prevented.  But then, I would have missed the feeling I felt when I put on the dress. The fourth dress.  I still keep the other three.  The fabric is inside my cubbies, apart, waiting for me to recicle them so that they can become something else.  

Much has happened since this day in 2015.  We have traveled three other times to France.  Each time, learning about and visiting a different spot.  But always spending the last few days of our trip in Paris.  

Last year, I was lucky enough to live there for two months.  Learning French embroidery in Ecole Lesage has been a dream.  One that was placed on hold because of  our new reality, Covid 19.  While I was in school, I thought about my life’s path.  I cried happy tears.  Humbled, grateful and amazed as how far my sewing journey has taken me.  Who would have thought that this girl from a small town in Puerto Rico, would end up in Paris.  I pinch myself every time I remember this.  I’ve much to learn. Can’t wait to be able to return.  

Going through my cubbies, I found a binder filled with images of dresses.  Of wants for that special day.  That binder would have come in handy back in 2015.  But, at least now, I know exactly where it is.  After all, we celebrated last year our silver wedding anniversary.  Perhaps the binder, will be of use and inspiration for the future.  Thankful for my ability to remember details.  For my love of sewing, for the love of my family and for my love for Paris.  

Photographer: David Law http://davidlaw.fr./