Today, 9 Kame invites us to honor the feminine power of death and transformation, to connect with the ancestors who have walked before us, and to recognize that death is not an ending but a doorway to deeper consciousness and eternal presence.
My mom’s parents were both born in San Antonio, Texas and spoke Spanish as their first language. They met in high school. My grandpa Norbert (5 Toj) fought in World War II with the US Air Force in China, Burma and India. He returned and went to college on the GI bill (at UT) and moved up the ranks to become a full Colonel and a hospital administrator. My grandma Virginia (4 Ix) was his devotee and together they raised three kids, my mom being the youngest. They were world travelers, having lived in Guam, Puerto Rico, California, Nebraska, Washington, Michigan, and Texas during and after his military career.
After he retired, they took cruises to China or Alaska and stayed active by bowling, playing bridge and playing Mah Jong with friends. He was a fierce yet funny man, both stern and sweet-toothed. She was an anxious, jealous wife, I found out much later in life. My grandma Gonzales had had a tragic childhood, with her mother dying of tuberculosis when she was 4 and her father remarrying a cruel stepmother.
My grandpa was her whole life. After he died of lung cancer and Parkinson’s disease at age 82 in 2004, and her closest sister Stella died later that same week, she unraveled fast and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She continued to live for another 14 years as her memory faded and her body weakened, yet her heart grew more relaxed, loving, and kind in her decline.
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