In Memoriam

About a year ago, I remember telling Darla and Kim about my next big expedition. I was planning to hitchhike from California to Mexico City, and from there take buses to the bottom of South America. It was the latest in a long series of trips, and I don’t think anyone in the family was quite as enthusiastic as Darla and Kim. They told me stories about their last adventure in Mexico, about sampling tequila and struggling with Spanish. We discussed other places we all wanted to travel, and Darla asked me to be sure to write down any good spots I found for them to retire.

The news caught up to me in Acapulco, two months into the trip, that Darla was sick. Acapulco is a strange place to receive news like that, surrounded by palm trees, resorts and beaches. My heart was in my stomach for the rest of the day; and I think it was the first time I actually stopped and thought about how much she meant to me.

I think, when you grow up having someone like Darla in your life, you never expect them to leave. Being shipped off to my aunt’s house when I was younger was always something to look forward to. Darla was fun, and she knew exactly what we needed: as much pizza as we could eat, extra scoops of ice cream, late night movies, and plenty of time in the pool.

As I got older, Darla continued to be there: for my high school graduation, ski trips to bear valley, short trips in the summers, and of course, all the Thanksgivings and Christmases.

I remember one year Darla and Kim came to visit me at college in Santa Cruz. I took them for a hike through the redwoods on campus, showed them my dorm room and life, and then, they took me for trip through Costco. That visit left me with ten pounds of chips and forty boxes of macaroni, but more importantly, words of support for the path I was on and encouragement for what I wanted to do with my life.

With Darla I never felt that I had to prove anything or act in a certain way. She was always a source of support and love, and I knew that if I ever needed anything, she would be willing to help. And it wasn’t just her. Because of Darla, I also have Kim in my life, and so, although our family has shrunk by one, it has also grown.

I feel sad that Darla is gone- but I also know few people who have had such a full life and have affected so many others. I was always amazed, when I came to visit her in Sonora, at how many people stopped us in restaurants, or at the supermarket, or while pumping gas, just to say hello. It was like being the nephew of a minor celebrity.

In the newspaper yesterday, in an article about Dia de los Muertos, I read a quote. It said: “Death thinks it’s so important, but it isn’t. Death is a travel agent. It gets you from point A to point B.” I liked that metaphor. I think it means Darla is now on another journey, and I hope, this time, she is writing down the good spots for the rest of us to retire.