This is a story about my death. Maybe someday someone will write about my life, (though I doubt it) but today I’m writing about my death and what happened after.
My name is Rosa Lopez and I was making empanadas when I died. It was a
heart attack, quick and fatal. I was dead immediately. By the time I was found slumped in a heap next to the fryer I had been gone 10 minutes. There was nothing much for the paramedics to do except declare me legally dead, wrap me up, and bring me straight to the morgue.
That’s not the interesting part.
The story I am here to tell is what Emmie Espinoza did after I died. Emmie is only twelve years old but her heart is ageless. She’s a regular at the Morningstar Grill. Morningstar is
where I lived and worked and where I died. I was there 32 years and it was my only home in America since the day I left the poverty of Mexico to support myself.
I was a widow. Mi Dios never gave the gift of children to my dear Alberto and myself. My brothers and sisters had long been living in different cities and towns and I was quite alone.
Until I came to America.
The people at Morningstar became my family and I became Abuela to them. I was there so long I saw a changing
cast of characters and in my later years it was hard for me to distinguish one generation from the other.
But Emmie stands out. She is a gem among the rock solid people in my world. Her entire being sparkles. It’s like Dios made the finest of all creation and made her inside out so everyone who meets Emmie can see what goodness looks like.
When Emmie came around the day I died, it was not business as usual. The cook was still cooking, the servers were still serving, and the customers
were still eating. But it was mostly silent. There was quiet crying, muffled sounds of sniffling. The gentes had not yet begun to talk about me, to share funny stories or to remember the finer moments with me. They were shocked and sad.
That’s what Emmie saw when she walked in to the restaurant that afternoon. Emmie cried too, but like I said, she is extraordinary. Her tears were unlike the tears of the others. Some were crying because they missed me. Some were sad for all I would miss.
But Emmie was crying for joy. She knew I was with mi Dios and I was with my darling Alberto. She knew there was a heaven filled with my long gone relatives. She knew mi Madre and mi Pappy were giving me huge hugs and were at long last able to say to me how proud they were that I lived a righteous life...READ MORE
