The summer of 1971 came with a death in the family. Titi Angelita, my Mom’s aunt who had talked to my Dad in the mid-60’s to find out his intentions towards Mom, passed away. The word around our grapevine was that she'd died in reaction to an insecticide applied to her home. Her death certificate records "cardiac insufficiency" as the cause of death. "Diabetes mellitus" also appeared as a contributing factor.
I don’t remember her well and what I remember is a serious, even stern woman who seldom smiled. Like I mentioned before, all I’ve got was the letter she wrote to Mom about Dad.
Titi Angelita’s was the very first funeral I’d ever attended. Her casket was open as was back then the general custom in Puerto Rico. I know I saw her, but I lack any distinct memory of her lying in state. Why the adults took me the funeral parlor remains a mystery to this day. I do sense it was because they’d wanted to prepare me for what they knew was coming next. I guess they’d wanted to acclimate me to a funeral parlor’s ambiance.
Next thing I remember was her burial at the new Civil Cemetery in northern Ponce. This cemetery is different from the old one since its designers adopted an “American way” in its layout. The old cemetery is a city of funeral monuments. The new one was a grassland with little plaques marking the graves.
The burial process was straightforward. The diggers excavated a rectangular hole in the ground 6-feet deep. Then, they lowered the casket into the grave with a “casket-lowering device.” A tipper truck dropped soil into the grave to cover it. I don’t recall seeing the diggers depositing and securing the casket into a cement vault as it’s done stateside. Out of some childish morbose impulse, I asked to see how the casket looked like down under.
They obliged.
A grown-up, I don’t remember who, picked me up for a look. Then he or she drew me back as the tipper truck dumped the soil into the grave. The diggers finished by flattening the terrain with shovels and hoes. Then the funeral personnel covered the grave with all the wreaths carried by the hearse. All these flowers formed a large mount over the grave.
And that was that.
As you can see, the whole process made a great impression upon me, since I remember those events so well. Besides, this was 1970’s Puerto Rico, when people stayed put until the very end. They didn't sugarcoat death a lot back then, and the presence of a melancholic 5-year old wasn’t seen as unusual.
I was there too she was my grandmother. I myself was nine when she passed. Ty for your memory it brought mine back