By Jose Bello
My parent's retirement to Puerto Rico had finally worked out for Paco and Tula after returning from years of chasing the “American Dream” in New York City. As so many Americans, they were fast reaching retirement age with finances not reflective of those they'd imagined in earlier times. It was upon this realization, that they decided to use all they'd learned piloting their family through the cold, hard, though memory-filled years, as we assimilated into an American life. They would commit to one final, concentrated effort, they believed would produce a comfortable and lasting existence in Puerto Rico, completing the circle of their lives.
Levittown was then a new housing community on the island, with sections still being built. It seemed an ideal place for their revival in retirement. They envisioned a life among people like those they'd known growing up on the island, as well as an emerging variation of ex-New Yorkers then returning mostly under similar circumstances. A warmer climate, a feeling of home and, in their case, the possibility of Paco acquiring his own barber shop : All excellent reasons to seal their retirement plans on the island. Their marriage was settling into a comfort zone of sorts, helping them, despite their meager income, to keep faith in hopes of a bright future.
Their challenges provided the goals that motivated them daily. And when Paco finally named all six winners in the daily horse races he had played for so many years, he felt justified in his persistence, perseverance, and loyalty to his hobby. Winning justified his faith in himself and in a God he knew all along was OK with gambling; contrary to what his church advocated. He reasoned that if the church could gamble, why couldn't he? This ongoing conflict, one he kept from the church, was a bothersome source of guilt Paco felt was unjustified, but couldn't shake.
He felt he didn't have a choice. What other way could he ever hope to one day acquire the kind of money that could help them to achieve their retirement goals; no matter how slim the hope? And it seemed that no amount of church going could dispel these feelings that haunted him. But, this all changed on the day he won. He felt proud, happy and as a man renewed! His great interest in conditions affecting the outcome of the races, things like track conditions, jockeys, their nuances, weather and such, were things he studied over his lifetime. His long awaited success had finally arrived! They now were able to afford to buy the house they'd been renting since their arrival. And by the time Paco, some years later, was diagnosed with dementia, Tula fell into his care, with the appropriate adjustments. Change was not only something she embraced, but something she had mastered.
There was a cat that took to coming by their home. And each time the cat would stop by, Paco would feed him. Consequently, a bond was formed between them. Tula was not so taken by the cat. Soon their sunny Island dwelling, a short walk from the blue waters of the Caribbean, was shared with the visiting cat. Just to put things in perspective, I remember when we lived in New York City and my father complained in frustration at the “little freeloaders who contributed nothing, while invading the tenements,” in reference to the rats and roaches who “insisted on living in the tenements among the tenants.” In their new home in Puerto Rico, it was a very different story. And my sister Carmen and her family lived close by.
We agreed it was a good thing to see our parents, whose marriage had previously been marked by bickering and arguing, now settled into a fertile family life despite the fact that the cat was pampered by Paco and tolerated by Tula. I think that bit of a wedge provided one of a number of small challenges that helped bring them closer together. Paco had continued attending the small Evangelical church in Levittown, until he was placed in the hospital. His Pastor continued visiting Paco at the hospital, sitting and praying at Paco's bed side, as the machine keeping him alive did its job. Although Tula shied from committing to the church as Paco had, she was cordial with the Pastor, while resisting his efforts in acquiring her membership to the congregation. She wasn't one to commit to organizations and such. She worshiped in her own way, by attending masses and studying church readings on her own.
Paco's dress habits had begun to slowly change from the time his dementia had begun. His many years of neat and prim began a slow unraveling. Strict adherence to white starched shirts and accompanying suits and ties from Monday to Friday, gave way to colorful short sleeved shirts, leisure slacks and even shorts. Tula was there overseeing these changes, ever watchful and ensuring he didn't carry those changes into eccentricities. Some changes previously unnoticed began to show; such as his child-like love of animals; staring after a butterfly in renewed wonder, worrying after the visiting cat's whereabouts and safety when he was away from their house; a prime reason for pleading Tula's acceptance of the cat as their pet. My parents were well known in the neighborhood and wanted to be sure the cat was not already a member of a family. And it was through neighbors, that they learned that the cat had been abandoned by a family who'd relocated to the mainland.
When Paco made his case to Tula, she reluctantly agreed, though not before attaching rules concerning the cat's care and feeding, as this was a main concern for her. We thought for sure it wouldn't last when Paco allowed the cat to solicit food by jumping onto the kitchen table; something so very contrary to Paco's nature before his illness. He never would have accepted such behavior from an animal in the past. Tula would eventually warm up to the cat. But the cat and his care was a small matter, as Paco's dementia progressed. He got into the habit of wandering the area and one day he didn't show up for lunch and Tula began to worry, sending word around in trying to locate Paco. It wasn't until late that afternoon that someone spotted him having coffee and conversing in the patio of a family living in an adjoining housing complex that no one of us, nor any of the neighbors knew. My brother, Paquito, went to pick him up and bring him home. The people there were nice and understanding of Paco's situation and admitted to Paquito their suspicions of his condition, as they'd conversed with Paco. Paquito apologized for any inconvenience Paco may have caused them. They in turn were adamant Paco had not been of any burden and that, in fact, they hoped he and Paquito would visit again in the near future.
While everything had turned out well and new friends had been made, everyone agreed there was need for him to be watched more carefully, as the outcome of this experience could have been radically different; an accident for instance or a variety of other outcomes could have been possible. Paco remained the gentle and kind man he'd always been, that never changed. Tula dealt with her usual daily chores; taking care of the bills and other mundane responsibilities which took up much of her time. And with this potentially dangerous occurrence, she thought it prudent to put out the word to friends and neighbors to keep an eye on Paco if they saw him wandering off near the outer parameters of Levittown. She also took on some of the care and feeding of the cat. As for her shopping and errands, she got help from my sister, Carmen, our brother, Paquito and on occasion, Carmen's husband. She took care of doctor's appointments for Paco and herself, as well. When they needed a ride, Paquito, my older brother, could be counted on. He lived with my parents during some of this time.
Tula had allowed the cat a sleeping space, curling up at Paco's feet, nestled among his covers. Never would I have believed such a bending of my mother's rules, prior to Paco's illness. While he'd always loved animals, Paco had, in the past drawn limitations to the closeness of animals, always believing a definite space between human beings and animals, domesticated or not, was necessary. Paco had been raised on a farm; goats, chickens and other animals ever present, a fact he was very proud of. As a barber, the importance he placed on cleanliness had manifested, before his illness, in his meticulous manner of dress. He only used high quality scissors, straight razors and other tools he sanitized before each use. His electric hair cutters were subjected to similar standards and levels of cleanliness. He placed cleanliness, respect for one another, education and setting goals, as things he considered essential for a good life.
About four years after Paco, Tula and the cat had settled into their retirement, we received a phone call from my mother urging us to travel to Puerto Rico because Paco's health had taken a turn and he'd been admitted to the hospital in Catano and attached to a life support unit. My wife, Patty and I were living in Virginia at the time we got the notice. Tula said I might want to come to Puerto Rico and be with my father in his last stage of life and, possibly, to say a last goodbye as well.
We prepared for the trip. While I didn't look forward to seeing my father so close to death, I wanted to be with him in his last moments, if only to say my last goodbye. It was at a dinner Tula had fixed on the second day of our arrival and after our visit to Paco at the hospital, that we learned that the cat, so prominent in their lives, had been missing for some months prior to our arrival. We hadn't thought much, if at all about the cat. Our thoughts, concerns and conversation centered around Paco's health and care. Although, we learned that the cat had been missing for months. Tula did not show signs of missing the cat, though his absence was conspicuous indeed. The fact that his bowl and plate were washed and put away, though not thrown away, I took as signs of her care of the cat and hope for his return. And Carmen had noticed that there was still a full, yet to be opened, can of the cat's food near the bowl and plate. Tula seemed to be coping with the obvious emptiness very well and was grateful for her daughter's help, support and her new family's availability in her time of need.
My mother, as always, was in acceptance of the larger hand of God she and Paco always believed was to be credited in all results. She was proud of her husband, and though she'd not said so in the past, she now readily did so. I believe she was satisfied that, while she'd not always been happy with all the things that made him the man she'd long ago fallen in love with and married, she was happy with the man she'd ended with. The fact that Paco helped Tula to soften and accept a pet into their lives, shows a degree of influence and love they had learned to share in the end; one that overcame obstacles.
I've always felt that cats harbor a mysterious air about them; it may be due to their association with witches and other “cryptic” characters and events, fictional or not. But regardless of these supposed influences, I can't deny feeling that this particular cat had influenced my parents' lives. And now that some time has passed, it seems to me that facts placed squarely in place with events that otherwise defy reasonable accounting, may be more easily answerable. I can't dismiss what I know and have observed about this particular feline and the mystery surrounding his association with our family. Having known little or nothing about cats before, I don't purport to know a whole lot more now. But, I feel I've been further educated on the subject if only for what I experienced at my father's burial. I have to admit that I too now see cats in a mysterious light. I also now see how much more there is to cats and why so many before me have been drawn to them.
Although my view of the day Paco was buried is somewhat blurred by the overall sadness and grief present at the event, I can however, remember observing the activities of the grounds keepers and attendees of the burial, as my perspective begins to clear. I recognized some as neighbors, friends of Paco, acquaintances and fellow church members who'd come to be a part of Paco's last day. It was a time for them to come together and show their respect for Paco. Warm sunshine filtered through the leaves of the trees that grew among the graves in the small cemetery. I remember watching the congregation of his church in procession, walking behind pall bearers moving toward the site of Paco's final resting place. A small group of, maybe twenty or so, of those who were able to attend; regular working folk, neighbors, friends, acquaintances wanting to show respect for a fellow member of their church; some lagged behind the congregation from the church, wanting to remain separate, on their own.
They walked, praying hands ahead or clasped to the hand of someone beside them. Together toward the open grave they walked. The pastor led a ceremonial reading, as the small crowd formed around him. Most words were lost to me either by my mind's wondering or the Pastor's dramatic inflections making the words harder to understand; or was it the distance I'd placed before us? It was then I remembered something my father had said to me as a boy. My mother was showing me how to iron a pair of pants I needed to wear, when my father joined us and said: “We won't be here with you forever, you know. You need to learn these things we teach you, now while we're here for you to learn them.”
I stood gratefully in the shade of a tree, as a warm breeze caused colorful plants and flowers to sway gently; the congregation listened to the Pastor's reading. And I was suddenly distracted as I spotted the figure of a cat perched on a pile of freshly shoveled soil beside Paco's open grave. Looking more carefully then, I recognized the small figure looking straight ahead at the pall bearers, as the long lost cat belonging to my parents! The pall bearers neared the site, carrying the casquet containing Paco's remains. I was sure it was Paco's cat! I quickly turned around, looking for Paquito to tell him what I'd just seen! but by the time I turned again, the figure was gone. It wasn't until the congregation was moving away from the site, that the figure reappeared again near the mound, as I was headed out of the cemetery. I whispered to Paquito, a few steps ahead of me, then: “That was Paco's Cat!” I whispered. We both stopped abruptly turning to face the cat at Paco's grave. People leaving were forced to maneuver around us. We stood fixated on the cat, unable or unwilling to move, watching the cat. Then suddenly he glided from mound to monument, stealthily past everyone, until he was finally, out of sight.
AFTERTHOUGHT
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I have come to believe that Paco's altered view of life in his dementia, was a blessing that God bestowed upon him in order for him to experience an innocent peace in his final days. I was unprepared, however, for the stone like presence of whose artificially warmed hand I held during my last visit with him at the hospital. I feel sure Paco missed his prized pet, companion and friend in his last days. Paco will be missed and, yes, I believe they will meet again.
THE END
Read also free pages of the author's life story: "Marine Tigers: A NewyoRican Story" at Amazon.com
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