Minga arrived home on Friday night, where her white casket was place in the living room. Along the wall her family had created this memorial to her, somewhat like the familiar objects I talked about having gathered for Jerry. At the top is a picture of her with her six adult daughters and three sons. That was her proudest and most essential identity: mother. There is a picture of her, with rosary beads draped around. There is a statue of Jesus, and a smaller white statue, likely from her home altar. That small white statue is hard to see against the white background. There is a picture of the Virgin Mary. Minga was a woman of deep faith.
Minga’s homecoming, Lily said, was “doloroso” — sad. All nine of the aunts and uncles are deeply affected by their mother’s death. Among the nine of them there are four fathers, men who came and went. Minga has always been there.
Minga’s body will not be left alone until she is lowered into the ground after her funeral mass on Saturday morning. Surrounding her are her nine offspring, grandchildren, and great grandchildren — 18 or 19 of the latter. They are her legacy to the world.
Ana, Rufina, Daira, Teresa, Angel, Ita, Mari, Manuel, Humberto. Minga’s daughters and sons, grieving deeply.