|
Alva
26 September
2005
I didn’t
realize how much my friend Alva looked like his mother
until, in the paper yesterday, I saw her obituary. In the
photograph of her I see his face, and my memory is refreshed
in how he holds his smile -- a sort of lovely, goofy
kindness.
I've known
Alva for 42 years. It’s been ten since I last saw him
at the wedding of a mutual friend up in Oakland. I
happened to take a seat one row in front of him and from behind I
heard, “Steven Amaya.” I turned and there was the smile.
We met in
elementary school, first grade. I can close my eyes and see
him running down the hill of the playground, lightly flapping his
arms - wanting to fly, I suppose. That was the year JFK was
shot. Everything, everything, about life got a little
darker after that.
By junior high
he was an established prodigy, paraded into math classes to
blow the socks off of challengers at the chalkboard. He was
Advanced.
In ninth grade
I sat behind him in French class. I remember glancing
down
at some books he had put in the basket under his chair, some
extra-curricular science fiction reading, and seeing one of
them opened to the frontispiece. The inscription read
“Aljo, Happy Birthday, Love, Mommy.”
Mommy. I made
a little wince to myself and looked away, struck by the
message at once so endearing yet embarrassing for us, big
ninth-graders. I wondered if he ached in the same way
I did at still being
thought of as a child.
Now, of
course, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
From the
Ventura County Star:
Trudy
(Gertrude) Martha Svoboda
Mrs. Trudy
Gertrude Martha Svoboda, 71, of Simi Valley, died Sept. 1,
2005, when a car struck her as she walked in a crosswalk on
her way to church.
Originally from Germantown, New York City, she moved to Simi
Valley in 1972, where she fell in love with the people and
the hills.
Trudy worked for the Simi Valley Unified School District for
25 years and was a devout member of St. Peter Claver Church.
She read voraciously, took classes at the Senior Citizen
Center, and participated in local book clubs.
She is mourned by her six children and their spouses, Alva
and Jenny, Charles and Laura, Lynn, Jean and Dale, Lisa,
Susan and St`phane, and Stephen; her grandchildren, Catlin,
Rachel, Randy, Luca, and Christin; and by many other close
friends and relations.
If you would like to make a donation in her name, her
favorite organizations were St. Peter Claver Catholic
Church, 5649 Pittman St., Simi Valley, CA 93063, and
Catholic Charities, www.catholiccharitiesinfo.org/donate. A
funeral mass was celebrated at St. Peter Claver on Sept. 5,
2005, where her oldest son, Alva, gave the following eulogy
in her honor.
I've read that Pope John XXIII said, "Every day is a good
day to be born, and every day is a good day to die." I know
that he meant that to be true for the person who was born or
dying, not for those like us who are left behind. For us,
these have not been good days.
But I really think John XXIII's saying rings true for the
kind of life my Mom led she spent her life trying, and
succeeding, at loving, and being good, and being prepared,
according to her beliefs, to leave this world for the next
one anytime.
Of course, she didn't expect her life to end the way it did,
in a sudden instant, but she was ready not because she spent
her time thinking about death, but just the opposite,
because she spent her time loving us and adding to our
lives.
She raised six of us from infancy to adulthood, and never
stopped being the one we went to for comfort. She always
welcomed others relatives, sons and daughters-in-law,
friends from school and work and church, and grandchildren
into her life and family. She brought love to those who are
here today, and to many who couldn't attend.
She devoted her life to good, never condemning others,
always open to all, always tolerant, and always forgiving.
Those of us who believe in another life know she has gone to
join the saints and ancestors in a good place- but all of us
know that she lives on in us, making us kinder, more
patient, and maybe a little stubborn- making us better
people.
But we'll always miss her hugs, her kisses, her smiles, and
her sweet voice. Now I want to say to her what she said to
us every night when we were children, and what I heard my
sister Lisa say to her at the end in the hospital, "Sleep
well, Mom. Sweet dreams. God bless you, God keep you, and
God love you always."
*****
I miss you,
Alva, and hope you are well.
______________________________ |
